Wizarding Realm of Holmes and Watson
by Texmex007
Summary: John Watson is back for another year. Now, two new girls join their sleuth group, and it's just in time to discover who has stolen all the Quidditch equipment from the Hufflepuff team!
1. The Compartment

Wizarding Realm of Holmes and Watson

By: Texmex007

Chapter (1) The Beginning That Paved Way to Everything

Year One: Part 1: The Compartment

Rating: T for Language, Suggestive Themes (in later years) and Some Violence.

_**Disclaimer: I will say this once, and only once for each year: I do not own BBC's Sherlock, nor do I own anything from the Harry Potter series.**_

**A.N: About the wands, they'll all be revealed later on in the story on who's got which kind. I used this website-**** wiki/Wand_Woods**

**To determine which character would get what, based on personality.**

**OH-and let me know, based on the website I provided, which wand you would have based on your personalities in your reviews, you lovely people! **

**Now, without further ado, here is "Wizarding Realm".**

"Are you sure you've got your pewter caldron stored away?" asked Mrs. Watson as she started opening her son's school trunk and checking for the said caldron.

It was there.

"Mum, we've checked _three _times, it is in there-along with the text books, phials, scales, telescope, potion kit-" replied her son, John as he wearily glanced around King's Cross Station and caught glances of the other wizards and witches hustling about on platform 9 ¾ . He checked his pocket watch-a gift he had received from his sister Harriet, one more time. The time read 8:30-only thirty more minutes before he had to be on that train.

"Mum, Dad-"

His father interrupted him.

"What about your wand?" asked Mr. Watson. Holding back a sigh, John reached into his jumper's sleeve and pulled out his 9 ½ Acacia wand with a Phoenix feather core and showed it to him.

"Good boy," said his Father as they watched him put it back into the sleeve of his jumper. The two took turns wrapping their boy into a hug.

"Always keep it with you," said Mrs. Watson with a smile, "it'll be your best friend during your time at Hogwarts; along with your owl and whatever human friends you make."

John chuckled as she let go and smiled at her.

"Dad," asked John as he looked around at the last of the other kids and their parents, "Why couldn't Harry come to say goodbye to me?"

Mr. and Mrs. Watson looked to each other and exchanged pained looks before answering their son,

"Harriet isn't really able to come to magical places like this, John. You know that." said Mrs. Watson tiredly. Mr. Watson busied himself by handing the luggage loader John's suitcases.

"I know," sighed John as he looked down at the Spotted Owl in the cage he was holding, "but it still would've been nice."

He let himself reflect back onto the pocket watch resting inside his slack's pocket and his older sister who gave it to him. Her radiant smile beaming down on him, her unforgiving punches she'd dish out when John pushed her too far about dropping her….habit. At this very moment, he was pretty sure Harry would be with her on-again-off-again girlfriend, Clara, right now.

_ As long as Harry is happy I don't care where she is._

"You'll be alright," assured Mr. Watson as he shook hands with the luggage loader and checked his own pocket watch, "remember, you've got Epoch." He pointed at John's owl and the boy couldn't help but smile. A couple of seconds ticked by until one of them finally spoke the unbidden words.

"It is time." Mrs. Watson uttered with a sigh.

She pulled John close and kissed him on the forehead. Instead of squirming away from her touch like most eleven year old boys, he found himself feeling grateful for his mother's affection. This would be the only time he'd get to see them until Christmas. His father embraced him once more and kissed him on the top of his head before giving him a good pat on the back and sending him off to board the train. John took a good twelve steps before his Father's voice beckoned him.

"Don't forget, son!" called his Father. John turned around.

"Remember to keep that stiff upper lip soldier!" continued his Father. John saluted his father with a smile, who saluted back, and made his way to the boarding platform of the train.

The moment he set foot upon the black and scarlet train, children's shouting could be heard from every which angle, filling the air with high pitched shrieks. At first, John assumed this was stemming from the possible excitement of going to a magical school-but as he listened closer he soon realized that that was not entirely the case.

"Someone help him, he's hurt!"

John could hear someone chant this shout repeatedly from the back of the train, and as the aspiring doctor he was, he quickly set Epoch's cage down at a nearby compartment and ran towards the commotion. When he got there, he found a young boy with dark, medium length hair dangling in the air by what seemed to be his ankle.

"I don't know what to do!" said a red haired girl, apparently the victim's friend. John gently pushed her back.

"He's been hit by the Levicorpus Curse." explained John after a moment of observation, reflecting back on an old tale told by his Father, and before anyone could move; he whipped his wand out and pointed it at the boy.

"_**Liberacorpus**__!" _commanded John with the flick of the wrist. Immediately, the boy was released from his invisible bonds and fell to the floor. John quickly kneeled down beside the boy and set to work with checking his pulse and vision.

"What's your name?" asked John, removing his two fingers from the boy's jugular and raising the boy's eyelids to check his pupils. Once he saw that the boy was okay, he scooted away from him, allowing the other boy to breathe freely.

"Severus; my name is Severus Snape." said the boy as he managed to catch his breath. He looked at John, "Thank you." he said, grabbing John's shoulder and squeezing it graciously. John smiled. As he helped lift the boy up, he watched the girl grab hold of Severus' arm to steady him.

"Thank you so much," exclaimed the girl. John watched as tears started to form into her blue-grey eyes as she spoke, "my name is Lilly Evans. I'm very grateful."

"No problem, Lilly." he said, making sure to offer a reassuring smile, "my name is John Watson. Do you have any idea who could have done this?"

Severus shook his head and Lilly pouted in anger, her tears threatening to escape at any moment. John looked around but he only saw concerned classmates, so he excused himself and went looking for where he had left Epoch's cage. He finally found it in front of compartment 134A.

"There you are!" he whispered, berating himself for leaving his bird unattended for so long. Epoch blinked up at him with wide, chocolate brown eyes, ruffling his spotted brown and white feathers a little and emitting a little _skree! _ of recognition. The sound of laughter quickly drew his attention to the compartment beside him.

He peered inside compartment 134A and came across a group of four boys in total. The moment he looked inside, the boys spotted him and quickly beckoned him inside. Seeing that he couldn't just ignore _all four _of the boys, he sighed and opened the door.

"We saw what you did back there!" called out a brunette boy with glasses, "That was pure genius!"

"Yeah, you did an amazing job for a first year." smiled another brunette boy with green eyes.

"I didn't think anyone knew that curse-let alone the counter curse." said a rather astonished dark haired boy with wild brown eyes.

"Well, Sirius, not all of us first years can be taught advanced magic by our families." commented a light brown haired boy with blue eyes. John watched as the dark haired boy-Sirius-shot him a dirty look.

"Allow me to introduce ourselves," said the boy with the glasses, "my name is James Potter."

James then pointed to the green eyed boy next to him, "This is Remus Lupin," he pointed to Sirius, "That's Sirius Black, and the boy next to him is Peter Pettigrew."

"Hello," greeted John with a wave, "my name is John Watson," his owl fluttered in its cage at the mention of his master's name. With a small chuckle, he lifted up the cage to show the boys, "and this is my owl, Epoch."

Epoch gave a tiny screech of a hello before settling back down in the cage and closing its eyes.

"That's a Spotted owl, isn't it?" asked Sirius, leaning in slightly to examine the bird.

John nodded affirmatively.

"About what you said, Sirius," said John sternly, "about knowing that curse and the counter curse-I'm going to assume that it was you who hurt that boy. Is that correct?"

The whole compartment was quiet for a moment's pause before James spoke up.

"I asked him to do it, John. Severus isn't really the nicest person on this train, and so I asked Sirius to do it. If you were to be angry with anyone, it'd be me."

John blinked in astonishment.

"Well," said John, "it's not in my position to judge anyone-but just know that what happened to Severus could've ended badly, ok? If he had any sort of blood related illness, things could've turn extremely dangerous-"

He paused to see if his words were sinking in. They were.

"But since nothing serious happened, I think all's well." he continued with a small smile.

James smiled at him too, and before he knew it, they were all laughing and talking amongst themselves about the upcoming school year. He could tell there wasn't any room for him to join, so he excused himself, but before he could leave, James caught him by his jacket sleeve,

"If you ever find yourself in need of anything from me, just ask." said James with a smile, "I owe you one." John managed a nod before picking up Epoch's cage and making his way towards a less occupied compartment.

John was headed towards the middle of the train when he soon started hearing whispers of another sort.

"There's a freak onboard this train!"

"I heard that too-he's in compartment 221B right now!"

"I heard he could take a look at you and tell you your entire life story."

"It's true! He must be into some Dark Magic."

John crinkled his nose. If there was one thing he truly couldn't stand about his age group-or people in general-was gossip. He looked around for the owners of the voices until he found them; a brunette girl with hazel eyes, a tan girl with dark, curly hair and dark brown eyes, and a boy with medium length brown hair and hazel eyes.

"Who are you talking about?" he asked innocently. The three turned and looked at him with wide eyes.

"There's a boy here who can take only one look," said the pale brunette girl, her brown eyes wide, "and tell you everything about yourself- and he's not even using a charm or anything!"

"Molly, that's absurd," said the dark skinned girl, "he's got to be using something-if you'd ask me, I would say it's Dark Magic."

The first girl, Molly, shrugged her dainty little shoulders and smiled sweetly up at John.

"What's your name?" asked Molly.

"John Watson," he answered, addressing each of the other students.

"My name is Molly Hooper, first year," she smiled, holding up one finger.

"Me too." answered John.

The tanned girl spoke up next,

"I go by Sally-Sally Donovan," she gestured to the boy next to her with the nod of her head, "this boy's name is Philip Anderson, but everybody just calls him 'Anderson'. We are both Second years." She pointed to her gold and red tie and added "I'm a Gryffindor."

Anderson pointed to his yellow and black tie, "and I'm a Hufflepuff."

_ I figured as much,_ thought John, _Harriet would be a second year too if she was able to come to Hogwarts…_

"Nice to meet all of you," greeted John with a plastered smile. Even if they were nice to him, he still wasn't too thrilled about their gossip.

"So who were you talking about earlier?" he inquired. Beside Molly and taking up a window seat, a short, somewhat big boned boy with glasses answered,

"They're talking about Sherlock Holmes-he's a first year here like us," said the boy stood up and shook John's hand, "my name is Mike Stamford."

"Nice to meet you Mike," smiled John, "Now where is this Sherlock character?" he asked, looking around the group.

"He's in compartment 221B-towards the back with the higher years," answered Mike, "but be careful. He really can tell you everything about your life with just one look-so if you have something to hide; then you should stay away from him."

_ What have I got to hide? I haven't done anything wrong._ thought John. Regardless, he nodded and said goodbye.

He shook his head at their rudeness as he made his way down each compartment, until he reached compartments 221. He looked to his right and saw 221A, which was empty-

_ Probably because of all the rumors about this Holmes character_

-and then he looked to his left, compartment 221B, which contained a boy. John straightened his back a little more before opening the door and walking inside, closing the compartment door behind him.

What struck him first about the boy were his piercing blue-grey eyes. They demanded John's attention the moment the boy looked up at him. His irises swirled with a flurry of blue, grey, green, and gold. It seemed as if the boy held tiny universes in his eyes and despite himself, left John amazed.

_ It should be a crime to have eyes like that._

He stood there for a couple of seconds before finding his voice.

"Hello," said John, "may I sit with you?"

"If you wish." answered the boy nonchalantly.

John sat down in front of the boy and set Epoch's cage on the floor in a designated set of grooves to hold the cage. A fluffy Siamese and Persian mix popped up and out from underneath the other boy's seat and trotted over to Epoch's cage, sniffing the metal and the bird inside. The Spotted Owl flapped its wings timidly, but was soon calmed when the cat rubbed it's blackened face against the cage, a low purr escaping from its mouth.

"Her name is Chronos." said the boy as he observed his cat curl up on the floor next to John's owl.

"My owl's name is Epoch." smiled John. He leaned forward and held out his hand,

"And my name is John-John Watson."

The boy examined John's face before reflecting John's actions. John could sense chill bumps crawl up his arm as the boy's cold, long fingers wrapped around his hand.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes."

They let go of each other. John pulled out his watch and Sherlock asked to see it, so John handed it over, assuming the taller boy was looking at the time. Sherlock handed it back and after only a moment's pause, Sherlock started talking.

"You're a military child, aren't you?"

John blinked. "Yes-um, how did you-"

"Besides the fact you straightened your back before entering, I noticed your hair is only a couple of inches long-extremely short compared to most of the male students here."

Sherlock took a second to inhale before continuing, "You're tan- you are an outdoors person, probably outside most of the time with your military father. You keep your posture strait, and shake with confidence. You meet others strait in the eye and you seem to be unaffected by what others say." Sherlock paused, remembering something.

"You also seem to know a bit about the art of Healing-but you are able to administer with the strictness of a military man-checking that boy's vitals' the way you did, I'm going to say that you want to be a Healer-but also an Auror. This is interesting, because I'm aiming to become an Auror too."

Sherlock paused to see if John would interrupt, but when he saw that the dirty blonde wouldn't, he continued.

"You've got a pocket watch from your older brother Harry, who gifted it to you. It's from your brother because it is a newer model, something your father wouldn't want or need. It is inscribed "to Harry from Clara xxx", so it cannot be to your mother. 'xxx' signifies kisses, which means girlfriend. Ergo, it is to your older brother's, who has a drinking problem, from the likes of it-"

"Wait," John interrupted this time, pinching the bridge of his nose slightly as he heard Sherlock refer to Harry's drinking habit, "How could you possibly know about Harry's drinking habit?"

"The way the front has been scratched around the release knob tells me someone with a shaky hand has tried to open it more than twice. Cocaine is really difficult to sneak into the house, let alone maintain financially, so I'm going to say alcohol."

"Sherlock, that was..."

_Disturbing?_

_ Weird?_

_ Freakish?_

_ Horrifying? _The list of negative adjectives could literally go on and on in Sherlock's mind.

"That was absolutely brilliant." continued John with a surprised smile.

Out of all the things John could've said, "absolutely brilliant" was not what Sherlock had anticipated. He prided himself in the fact that he didn't flinch.

_Well, that was different._  
>And that sent his thoughts into frenzy.<p>

"Was there anything I got wrong?" asked Sherlock, trying to settle his emotions. He leaned forward and steeple his hands underneath his chin as he waited for John's response.

"Only one thing," said John after a moment's thought, "'Harry' is short for 'Harriet'." Sherlock scowled and threw his hands up in a dramatic flair.

"Always something," he said, but then paused, an eyebrow cocked in curiosity. "That means your sister is…"

John nodded wearily, "yes, she's gay." to change the subject, he added, "and I don't care. Anyways, besides that, your …um…"

"Deduction." filled in Sherlock.

"Yes, your deduction was absolutely brilliant." repeated John with a smile.

"That's not what most people say." said Sherlock in an attempted deadpan voice. On the inside he was screaming. This was different, this was _new._

"Oh yeah?" asked John with a raised eyebrow, "What do most people say?"

"'Piss off'." answered Sherlock with a smirk. John laughed, and before he knew it, Sherlock found himself laughing too.

_It's been such a long time since I've laughed like this._

Sherlock looked at John-this time really looking at him. For an eleven year old, he seemed really well mannered. John also seemed to be mature for his age-like himself-which would be a relief.

"So what house do you think I will be in?" asked John, "that is, would you be able to determine what house I'd most likely belong to?"

Sherlock smiled.

"That's easy-you're a Gryffindor, there isn't a doubt about it. Me, I'm a-"

"You're a Ravenclaw, for sure." interrupted John. Sherlock looked at him with slightly widened eyes.

"I'm right, aren't I?" asked John, "I mean, you're extremely intelligent-even though we've only just met, I can tell."

Sherlock smiled, this time, a genuine, sincere smile. "Yes, I believe you are correct-I'm quite confident that I will be placed into Ravenclaw house."

Sherlock's smile waned as he leaned forward towards John and narrowed his eyes, "So how did you know about that curse-the Levicorpus curse? More importantly, how did you know the counter-curse?"

"I-uh, my father told me about an incident once where my Mum saved him from this curse when they were kids-so I learned it from him." answered John as he leaned back.

"That's still fairly higher leveled magic for a first year like you," noted Sherlock, "I'm impressed."

"Th-thanks." stuttered John. Sherlock watched with a guarded smile as he observed John's face turn at least a shade darker than it was previously.

_ There's been proven studies, in which the chances of being a homosexual is raised significantly when the subject has a sibling who is also a homosexual_, Sherlock thought, his pondering turning to his own royal pain in the arse brother for a split second, _so John, tell me, do you fit into that statistic?_

Soon, the two started up a conversation, talking about anything and everything related to magic. Lost in conversation, the two were rudely interrupted by the lurching motion of the train, nearly throwing them both onto the floor. John looked up, pulled apart the curtains and looked out the window. Sure enough, it was already nightfall. The two boys looked at each other before the shouts of arrival drowned out any intelligible sound could be made by either of the boys. It was evident: they'd arrived at Hogwarts.

The duo stepped out of the train, cages and trunks in hand and name tagged robes hastily thrown on. They were soon met by a ginormous man with a wild and obviously un-kept brown beard and merry chocolate eyes peering down at them with warmth and welcome.

"Welcome firs' years! Gather around me, won't ya?" bellowed the man. In an instant, John could account for all the children that seemed around his age from the train-including Severus, who seemed to be doing a great deal better now as he stood next to Lilly.

"Now that I've got you all were I want you," announced the man, "I'll introduce myself. My name is Hagrid, and I'm the Game Keeper here at Hogwarts. Now," he pointed to a barrage of boats lining a lake's shore, "if you'd jis' follow me, we'll be boarding these boats and head to the school. You can only have five children per boat!"

John stuck with Sherlock as he approached the boat in which Hagrid would be using. A tap on his shoulder sent him reeling around to meet Mike and Severus from earlier.

"Mind if we join you guys?" asked Mike timidly, his eyes somewhere else while Severus remained quiet. It took John a second to realize that Mike wasn't actually asking him for permission, but Sherlock. Sherlock nodded and two boys clambered aboard. John looked at Severus once more and realized that Lilly was gone.

"Severus, where is Lilly?" asked John, his head cocked slightly to one side as he looked at the pale boy. Severus' countenance seemed to dim as he answered.

"She went with a glasses wearing brunette boy and his three friends."

Mike gave John a 'do not go further with this please' look, and John obeyed.

As they found their seats, John looked up into the night sky and was silenced by the grandeur of what he saw. He placed a slightly shaky hand on Sherlock's shoulder, startling the curly haired boy into shooting him a confused look before looking up and seeing exactly what John was making such a silent fuss about.

_Oh._

Up in the midnight blue sky floated at least one hundred white candles scattered everywhere-littering the sky, their small orange flames adorning the night and lighting the starry sky with warm, orange-yellow orbs of light. He peered over at John whose mouth was slightly agape as he admired the candles above him.

"You like them-" started Sherlock but John interrupted.

"They're beautiful." breathed John, his gaze never wavering.

Sherlock watched as the orange light reflected off the surface of John's face, most importantly his irises, which shone a bluish-orange in the candlelight.

_Complementary colors make each other 'pop'- for example, purple and yellow, green and red, and… blue and orange._

"Yes they are," blurted Sherlock, referring to something else besides the candles. Without moving, John glanced from the candles to him, still sporting a goofy smile and Sherlock found himself adding rather quickly, "The candles, the candles are beautiful."

He watched John grin and heard Mike stifle a giggle, to which he shot a withering look. Mike became very quiet at that point while Severus grew a small smile of his own.

"So what are you four boys' names?" asked Hagrid, who'd been rather quiet as he watched the boat steer itself.

John spoke up, "My name is John Watson." he gestured to Sherlock, Mike, and Severus respectively, "This is Sherlock Holmes, Mike Stamford and Severus Snape."

"Well, John, Sherlock, Mike, and Severus," said Hagrid as they landed on the other side of the lake and on the castle's grounds, "I guarantee ye that ye will all enjoy these upcoming years here at Hogwarts."

John found himself catching Sherlock's eyes on him before answering confidently, "Yes, I'm sure we will."

**A.N: Fiiiiiiiiiiiirst chapter, whaddya think? Leave your comments and suggestions on what potterlock activities that you'd like to see and I'll try to work my magic (sorry, bad pun)(actually, I'm not really sorry, that was a freaking awesome and totally legit pun).**


	2. The Sorting

Wizarding Realm of Holmes and Watson

By: Texmex007

Chapter (1) The Beginning That Paved Way to Everything

Year One: Part 2: The Sorting

**A.N: I feel I should put this in here somewhere—the pairings, I mean. You obviously know it's a Johnlock, but wait, ****_there's more!_**** It's also Mystrade, Sanderson, MikexMolly, Johniarty(if you squint), IrenexAnthea, and the original pairings in the Harry Potter series. There may be more pairings but I honestly can't think of anymore at the top of my head. Oh—Year Two will introduce the long road to a JimxOC. **

**Kay, without further ado, this is Wizarding Realm.**

Never before had John seen such masterful art and décor in one place.

Tapestries, flying buttresses, murals and mosaics, as well as stone carvings of animals and people alike dominated the hallway leading towards the Great Hall. He found himself pausing every so often to gawk at the moving paintings as they seemed to live their own lives within their individual frames, hurrying past each picture frame and invading other portraits to have discussions. He paused once more to watch a writer sitting at his desk and _actually writing in real time. _He felt an elbow poke him in the ribs sharply.

"Do keep up John, I won't be waiting around for you, you know." whispered Sherlock sternly.

John looked around and realized that sure enough, they were lagging behind the crowd. John quickly made it a point to catch up and together they weaved through the large group of students, stopping short in front of Professor Minerva McGonagall.

Before entering the Great Hall, the fourty-seven year old Professor twirled around in her satin emerald robes and scanned the students faces-careful to see if each one was focusing on her.

"Now children," she said firmly, "You will find that here at Hogwarts you will be sorted into four houses-Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin," she looked around the room and caught a few smiles flashing her way, "the sorting ceremony will begin shortly. Whichever house you are sorted into, will be like your family."

John and Sherlock shared a knowing look.

If there was one thing John knew for certain, it was that he and Sherlock would not be sorted together. His eyes left his friend and found the Professor once more.

"Good behavior and progress will give your house points which will be tallied at the end of the school year and will determine which house gains the house cup," she explained.

"Also," said the Professor, this time shooting a withering look at James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter, who had just stopped rough housing.

"Bad behavior will take away the desired points and if the act is severe enough, will get you expelled."

The Professor looked around the room with a well concealed smile before turning around and pushing the doors open.

Inside John found many long benches and tables set up vertically throughout the Great Hall-each table occupied with what appeared to be designated houses-Ravenclaw adorned students sat on one bench on the far left of the room, Gryffindor on the table beside it, next Slytherin, and finally Hufflepuff. At the head of the Great Hall was one long horizontal table, and there sat many adults-Professors, John assumed, of the many different classes provided by Hogwarts.

One wizard caught John's attention the most-the man was seated in the center of the table, behind the golden owl podium that would be used for daily announcements. The man wore greyish blue robes and had a light grey beard reaching his chest and wire framed glasses. When Professor McGonagall reached the front of the room with the students, the wizard stood up and the whole room went _quiet_.

So quiet, you could hear the tiny _clatter _of a clumsy Sixth year dropping their wand.

"Welcome to yet another year of Hogwarts," he said, "I am headmaster Dumbledore. Before we commence with the Sorting Ceremony, I must announce that the Forbidden Forest is strictly prohibited for First Years, and the Whomping Willow is not to be approached, tampered with, or mocked in any way."

Headmaster Dumbledore turned to his left and nodded to a rather portly woman, "I would like to introduce the head of each House now."

"This is Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff House and also Professor of Herbology." explained the Headmaster, signaling Professor Sprout to rise.

John watched as she stood up, dressed in what seemed to be gardening attire-a worn green apron, weathered boots, and worn brown gloves. She patted down imaginary wrinkles out of her apron with a smile so warm that it could rival the sun on a summer day as many cheers could be heard from the Hufflepuff table. As Professor Sprout sat down, the Headmaster nodded to Professor McGonagall, who turned to the students and bowed slightly.

"This is Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House as well as Professor of Transfiguration." announced the Headmaster. John smiled as he watched many First years cover their ears instinctively as the Gryffindor table let out a roar of approval.

"Head of Ravenclaw House is Professor Flitwick, who is also the Charms Professor." John watched as an extremely short man with dark hair and dark eyes stepped onto his chair and waved at the students. The blue and bronze table could be heard as it erupted in applause.

"Last but not least," said Headmaster Dumbledore, "is the Head of Slytherin House-Potion's Professor Horace Slughorn." The Potion's Professor stood up from his chair and grinned at the students, waving to a selected few.

Many shouts and cheers manifested from the Slytherin House table. Sherlock, who hadn't bothered to look up once at the a forth noted Professors, glanced up at Professor Slughorn when Dumbledore mentioned the words "Potions Professor" and scanned the man for a minute or two-John could only guess that he was deducing something from the middle-aged Professor.

"Now," said the Headmaster as he pointed to a stool adorning an ancient-looking brown hat in front of the golden podium, "let the Sorting Ceremony begin!"

Before he knew it, John was listening to a distinctly male, raspy voice fill the Great Hall. He looked around wildly in order to find the source of the noise.

"Oh you may not think me pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me."

It wasn't until just then that John looked to the hat, and sure enough, it was the source of the singing. He smiled and allowed himself to enjoy the fact that an enchanted article of clothing was actually speaking, let alone carrying a tune.

"You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be."

With that, the students started clapping-

"You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;"

The Gryffindors roared with pride-

"You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;"

Hufflepuffs cheered merrily once more at their table-

"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;"

The Ravenclaw House erupted once more in applause-

"Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends."

Slytherin students yelled joyfully in recognition-

"So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands-though I have none

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The Hat fell quiet on its stool, and both Professors and students alike leaned forward in anticipation. Sherlock looked around at his classmates once more. It was painfully obvious what each of his fellow classmates were to be.

_Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryff-no, Ravenclaw. Definitely Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff…_

It was somewhat funny to Sherlock-the fact that the Hat was like him in a way; able to know a person and what they are like. However, for Sherlock he didn't need the magic of reading a person's thoughts and mind like the hat-he used the science of observation for his deductions.

Professor McGonagall grabbed what seemed to be a list off of the Headmaster table and read the first name from the list.

"Miss Irene Adler!" called the Professor.

Sherlock watched as the first student to be called was a beautiful, pale girl with dark brown hair and unforgiving green eyes. She shot him a superior look before she walked past him and took her seat on the stool. Within seconds of the hat's contact with Irene's head the hat bellowed "Slytherin!" Irene hopped off the stool and strutted over to the green and silver adorned table with a triumphant smirk on her face. Sirius leaned over to John and whispered in his ear,

"Slytherin House takes in mostly Purebloods-you know- families without Muggles or Half-bloods." said Sirius. Remus nodded in agreement.

"Mr. Sirius Black!"

John watched as Sirius left Remus' side and walked up to the stool and sat down. The hat was placed on his head and John watched as the hat frowned.

"You don't want Slytherin?" said the hat, surprised. "Your whole family is in it-are you sure?"

John watched as Sirius nodded.

"That leaves only one other option then now doesn't it?" said the Hat, "and that would be…Gryffindor!"

Gryffindor house shouted their approvals as the dark haired boy headed over to the table and sat down.

"Miss Lily Evans!"

John watched as the red head parted ways with Severus and sat down on the bench.

"Gryffindor!" announced the Hat.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes!"

John felt a pang of anxiety as Sherlock left him and sat on the stool. He had told himself that he would be separated from his new friend, but there was always a chance…

"You're Mycroft Holmes' little brother!" said the Hat with a smile. John's eyes widened.

_He didn't tell me he had a brother… _he thought, somewhat hurt by Sherlock's impersonal outlook. But then another thought popped into his mind as if Sherlock himself had answered.

_You didn't ask._

"I can see your obvious disdain for the boy," said the hat, amused, "however, I'm afraid I cannot bring myself to care about trivial things like that given the fact that you are so well suited for the house…." said the hat with a smirk, "Which therefore means you shall be placed in Ravenclaw!"

Sherlock stepped off the stool with a vehement look on his face, and for a moment debated on whether or not he could argue with the hat but thought better of it. Instead, he traveled to the Ravenclaw table, extremely careful to avoid eye-contact with a certain brunette Second year who was now eyeing him superiorly from the opposite side of the table.

"Miss Molly Hooper!"

A pale and small framed girl shyly walked up to the stool and hopped up.

"Hufflepuff!" announced the Hat with a grin.

"Mr. Remus Lupin!"

John smiled at the green-eyed boy, and Remus smiled back at him as he sat down on the stool.

"Gryffindor!" announced the Hat. John watched as Remus made his way to Sirius and sat down next to the dark haired boy with a grin.

"Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood!"

_That has got to be the most interesting name I've ever heard in my life-besides the names 'Sherlock' and 'Mycroft'_ John thought, as he watched a pale boy with shoulder length blonde hair make his way through the crowd of first years and step gracefully onto the stage and sit on the stool.

"Ravenclaw!" announced the Hat.

"Mr. James Moriarty!"

John watched as a boy a little bit taller than him strolled onstage and sat down on the stool, crossing his legs and leaning forward a bit in his seat. His eyes met John's and John found himself unable to look away from James' dark brown irises-it was really hard to tell where the dark brown stopped and where the black of his pupils started.

"Slytherin!" shouted the Hat the moment it hovered over James' head. It didn't even touch him, John noticed, yet it knew. He watched as James walked over to a long haired blonde Seventh year and sat next to him.

_Interesting._

"Mr. Sebastian Moran!" called Professor McGonagall. John watched as the tallest boy besides Sherlock in the First year group walked up and sat on the stool.

"Hufflepuff!" said the Hat. The boy shrugged nonchalantly and walked over to the Hufflepuff table, where a bunch of upper classmen accepted him warmly.

"Mr. Peter Pettigrew!" announced the Professor. The dirty blonde walked up and sat down on the stool with a nervous smile.

"Gryffindor!" announced the Hat. He quickly joined Sirius' side and visually relaxed.

"Mr. James Potter!"

John gave James a reassuring pat on the back as he walked by. James sat down and smiled at Peter, Sirius and Remus as they watched with eager faces.

"Gryffindor!" shouted the Hat. John watched as Sirius, Remus, Peter and James gave each other high fives of approval. He couldn't help but feel a pang on jealousy as he watched the four friends talk in such a carefree manner since they were sorted together.

"Mr. Mike Stamford!"

John grinned at the glasses wearing boy and gave him a thumbs-up as Mike sat down on the stool. The Hat was placed on his head, and for a couple of minutes it was quiet.

"You would be a great Gryffindor," said the Hat, "but I also feel that you should be a wonderful Hufflepuff as well."

"I would like Hufflepuff," whispered Mike as he looked over at a certain brunette girl sitting at the Hufflepuff table.

"Hufflepuff, eh?" said the Hat with a sensuous wiggle of its stitched eyebrows, "Then Hufflepuff it is then! Hufflepuff!"

The whole Hufflepuff House erupted into a cheer as Mike joined their table, sitting next to Molly.

"Mr. Severus Snape!" announced Professor McGonagall. John nodded at Severus as the dark haired boy walked up and sat down on the stool. The Hat was on his head for a little moment before it spoke.

"Slytherin!" it announced. John watched as the blonde Seventh year sitting next to the Moriarty kid smiled darkly as Severus walked up and joined him at the Slytherin table.

"Last, and certainly not least," said Professor McGonagall with a smile, "Mr. John Watson!"

John could feel the excitement that had been building up with each name release itself through his body and he slowly walked up to the stool and sat down. He felt the hat settle itself on his head and smiled.

"Hmm…" said the hat, "You are fairly intelligent-you want to know about the art of Healing. You are also brave, standing up for others who are in need. You are ambitious, and you are a hard worker. You have many House qualities."

"I feel I would be best as a Gryffindor, Sorting Hat." answered John with a nod.

"Is that so?" said the Hat.

"Yes."

"Then Gryffindor it is!" shouted the hat. The whole Great Hall roared as the last of the First years was sorted into a House. John quickly headed towards the Gryffindor table and found a spot behind Sherlock, who watched him walk up with a knowing smile.

"I told you that you were a Gryffindor." said Sherlock as he turned around to face John.

"And I told you that you would be placed in Ravenclaw." answered John with a grin.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood up quickly after John took his seat and cleared his throat,

"Let the feast begin!"

With a wave of the hand, steaming platters of corn on the cob, green beans, roast meats, rolls, pies, and puddings adorned the tablecloths on silver platters. Without a second thought, John turned around and started eating the most wonderful meal he'd ever eaten-besides his Mum's homemade cooking of course.

After about an hour of gorging themselves, the students were soon released from dinner and escorted to their common rooms in which each House would have to support their students.

John watched Sherlock as the Ravenclaw Prefect-a student able to give out detentions and monitor students- guided the young Ravenclaw students to the West wing of the castle while John saw that his Prefects, a redheaded young woman named Molly Prewett and a redheaded young man named Arthur Weasely, was leading the Gryffindor First years towards the East wing of the castle. As the duo found themselves splitting, John caught hold of Sherlock's robe and made him stop.

"Sherlock," said John, "I'll see you in class then-ok? You are not getting off easy just because we are in different houses, got it?" he said half-jokingly.

Sherlock eyed him curiously before nodding once. John let the fabric slip from his fingers and the two separated for the time being.

He stayed close to Arthur as he lead them towards the staircases, "Now be careful everybody," he said as they stepped up the staircase, "these stairs move, so hold on!"

"What year are you two in," asked John, "if you don't mind me asking."

Both Arthur and Molly turned around and answered in unison, "Seventh years."

As if on cue, the staircase they were on started to shift underneath them and swung to the left. John lunged forward and grabbed hold of the railing. When he felt secure enough he looked up in awe as he watched the stairs above them shift and settle in random spots in the castle, and after James pointed downwards, he looked to see the same occurrence happening below as well. As the staircase settled, Molly picked up the lead and Arthur walked behind the children in the back.

_They work really well together_ John mentally noted.

They walked up a couple more staircases until they reached the seventh floor, and Arthur took lead as the group approached a painting of a rather large brunette woman in a pink Victorian dress.

"Password." demanded the woman, and John found himself in awe once more-_it's a moving, talking painting,_ he thought, _it's totally wicked._

"Fortuna Major." answered Arthur. With a smile the woman in the painting stood up and the painting itself opened to reveal a secrete passageway. Arthur beckoned the children to go inside after him and waited for Molly to bring up the rear. Once all the children were inside, Arthur smiled.

"Welcome to the Gryffindor Common Room," he annouced as the kids surveyed their surroundings. John felt instantly at home as he noticed many comfy gold and scarlet couches, wooden tables, a brick fireplace and two big vertical windows with heavy scarlet curtains on both sides of the fireplace. He looked over at the lion tapestries and smiled at the Prefects.

"Now, about passwords," said Arthur as he pointed towards the entrance, "they will be posted on that posting wall over there by the door. If you forget them, then you will have to wait until one of your Housemates can help you out."

John made a mental note to memorize the password list later on.

"About your rooms," said Molly as she pointed to the split staircase, "the left staircase leads down to the boys dormitories, while the right staircase leads up to the girls dormitories. You will find that all of your things have been packed away by your bed." She paused before erupting into sweet laughter,

"Welcome to Gryffindor House!" she giggled.

"We have a whole lot of First years, this year don't we Molly?" said Arthur excitedly as the First years made their way up or down the stairs, depending on their gender.

Molly nodded energetically before they parted and left John standing in the common room alone. Many thoughts swam through his mind as he took in the feeling of welcome the school was trying so hard to drench its students in.

He slowly made his way down the stairs and found his bed along with what Molly said he would find-although now he noticed that he now had Gryffindor schemed ties and jumpers, as well as a scarf that he was sure he'd need in the next two months.

He spotted Epoch in its cage by the window next to his bed and smiled as the bird gave a shrill of recognition. He took the bird out and buried his nose in the owl's feathery chest, smiling as he felt Epoch groom his hair lovingly. His mother's words regarding his wand and owl came floating back to him like an echo in the wall of a cave.

_"__Always keep your wand with you," said Mrs. Watson, "it'll be your best friend during your time at Hogwarts; along with your Owl and whatever human friends you make."_

John figured that despite his quirks, Sherlock was coming off as Human as the dark haired boy could possibly manage. He wondered how Sherlock was settling in his room and figured he would probably see him tomorrow. His thoughts turned back to his parents and Harry-and the last conversation they shared as siblings before he left for Hogwarts.

_"__It's not fair Harry!" said John as he punched his sister's pillow. He flopped back down on her bed and covered his face with his hands. Harry smiled weakly and pulled his hands away from his face as she joined him._

_ "__Life isn't fair," she said, "but just because I can't go to Hogwarts doesn't mean that you shouldn't, Okay?"_

_John looked up at the dirty blonde and sighed, his shoulders sagging with guilt. As if she could read his thoughts, she added,_

_ "__Look-just because I'm a sq-"_

_ "__Don't say it." John warned. He hated that word. He despised that filthy, horrible word that too many wizards and witches hurled at his family and at his sister. If he could, he would eradicate the word "squib" from the Wizarding dictionary._

_ "__Just because I cannot perform magic doesn't mean that you shouldn't, Jumpers." she said. John found himself smiling at the use of his nickname-Jumpers-from her._

_ "__I'm proud of you for what you can do, little brother," she said with a smile, "and I'm always here for you."_

_ "__I still feel guilty." said John as his sister wrapped him in a hug._

_ "__I understand Jumpers," she whispered, "but just know-your guilt shows how much of a heart you have." She pulled him away to look him in the eyes, "Now I want you to write to me at least once a week, got it? Tell me everything."_

John pulled out a piece of parchment paper and a quill from his backpack before sitting down at his desk and dipping his quill in the ink.

_Dear Harry,_

_You'll never believe how crazy of a day it was! At Kings Cross, we entered Hogwarts station through a brick wall! I thought I would've died if Dad wouldn't have gone first. I met a bunch of people today; one of them is named Sherlock. He is very smart-he's in Ravenclaw House; and I've been sorted into Gryffindor House! I was thinking that you would definitely be a Hufflepuff, sis, no doubt. It sure is beautiful here, and I wish you could see it. The food here is pretty alright, but do me a favor and tell Mum I still prefer her cooking over the school's, yeah? I'll write to you later in the week after I attend some classes. Please send my love to Mum and Dad._

_Love your brother,_

_John_

John placed the paper in an envelope and wrote "_To Harriet Watson_" on the front of it and gave it to Epoch, who took it in its beak and after John opened the window, flew out into the darkness of the night.

After brushing his teeth, setting his alarm clock and getting dressed into his sweats and t-shirt, he sunk into the covers of his bed and, despite all the ruckus from the rest of the boys in the dorm, he allowed his mind to rest for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts.


	3. The Findings

Wizarding Realm of Holmes and Watson

By: Texmex007

Chapter (1) The Beginning That Paved Way to Everything

Year One: Part 3: the Findings

**A.N: I have no idea how to fix the spacings ;_; If you have any idea how to do that, pleeeeeaaaaaassee email me about it (^^),**

After three weeks of running through corridors, navigating around the moving staircases, talking to the paintings for directions to avoid getting lost(and simply chatting because they _were talking, moving paintings for goodness sake_), John was finally comfortable with his general knowledge of where everything was.

For Sherlock, however, it had only taken three days to determine where everything was in the castle that he deemed important-the most important room, of course, being the Potions room.

So while Sherlock was early to arrive in his class,(probably to show off his excessive knowledge of Potions to professor Slughorn), John found himself strolling down the west wing of the Hogwarts corridors for his free time, admiring the paintings on the walls and the sheer magnificence of the castle's architecture.

He listened to the birds serenade the frosty afternoon air and watched with a respectful smile as the Whomping Willow smacked away the fowls that were brave-or stupid- enough to have landed on one of its angry limbs.

He stopped and turned to the window, and watched the brutal tree sway in the late September wind. It had been planted only a couple of weeks ago by the caretaker, Apollyon Pringle. He tried to repress a giggle as he remembered the poor old man's face as he was nearly bludgeoned by the humongous tree when he finished sticking it into the ground; he still remembered listening Mr. Pringle threaten to quit shortly afterwards. The name 'Whomping Willow' stuck fast.

_Man, _thought John, _Even though I can't have my broom here yet, I would still hate to have my nimbus 1000 tangled up in that mess of limbs._

As he admired the beauty of the surrounding mountains, rolling hills, and yellow daffodils laid out in front of him, he heard the sound of something slamming against the marble floor a couple of feet behind him.

He whirled around and pointed his wand at the source of the noise, but instead of a person, he found a little black book. Slowly, he made his way to the book, never lowering his wand.

"Who's there?" he demanded as he made his way to the end of the hall.

No one answered.

He reached the book and peered around the corner but couldn't find a soul around. Putting his wand away, he bent down and picked up the black book. He walked back out to the window and sat down on the sill as he examined it further. The little black book was strange-there was no title on the front, no title on the spine. He flipped the book over and looked at the bottom left hand side of the cover and found a name printed in gold font;

'Tom Marvolo Riddle'

"Interesting." he said aloud. _I should go turn this over to the Headmaster_, he thought, _he's bound to know of the names of all the students who attend here._

"What's interesting?" asked a male voice from the end of the corridor. The voice made him jump and before he knew it, John was hiding the book in his backpack. _Why am I hiding it?_ He thought, but it was too late-if he took the book back out it would make him look weird. So instead, John smiled up at the pale brunette boy who owned expressive green eyes.

"Good morning Remmy, how goes it?" asked John, hoping Remus would forget his question. The other Gryffindor grinned before joining him on the sill of the window.

"Good morning, John. What did you say was interesting?" asked Remus. John cleared his throat, trying to think of something-anything, that wasn't the book. He looked out the window and caught sight of the Whomping Willow.

"I was just thinking about how interesting the Whomping Willow is." he lied. Well, half-lied. He continued, "It isn't like most trees-birds cannot rest on it, squirrels cannot climb up it, and it wouldn't be considered wise to sit underneath it."

"It sounds like you just recited a riddle." Remus chuckled.

Remus and John watched with a grimace as the Whomping Willow slapped away a bird flying too close to it.

"You're right though, it is pretty touchy, isn't it?" remarked Remus.

"Yeah..." sighed John, "I wonder why that is? Maybe it's hiding something..."

"That's absurd." blurted Remus, jumping up to his feet. John watched his friend with a raised eyebrow.

"I-I mean, that's not really all that reasonable-what would it be hiding?" stuttered Remus, "It's probably just a precaution made to frighten away magical creatures that want to invade Hogwarts. The tree could take out a bloody ogre if it wanted to."

Remus looked at his watch, "It's 8:30 A.M., John-we've got Charms class to go to."

John checked his own watch, and, sure enough, Remus was right. Monday morning and he had Charms. With only thirty minutes to get to class, he picked up his backpack and raced with Remus to class, his mind still heavy with the mystery of the book, but now with the secret the Whomping Willow may be hiding.

_In one hour I'll see Sherlock again for lunch and we can figure this out-together._

Remus and John found themselves huffing and trying to catch their breath outside of class 2E in the Charms corridor on the 3rd floor. They hurried inside and took their seats just in time and watched as Professor Flitwick strolled into the class and stood on his stand in the front and center of the classroom. John stared down at the feather on his desk and waited patiently for the instructor to speak.

"H-hello class." said the teacher over the whispers and shouts from the room. He cleared his throat,

"I said 'Hello class'!" he said a bit louder.

"Hello Professor Flitwick!" replied the class.

Finally, the class grew quiet.

"Well then," he said, "Is anyone curious as to why there are feathers on the desk?"

Many heads nodded.

"Well," said the professor rather excitedly, "today, we will be learning a new charm. It is called the Levitation Charm. It is the most basic charm for every witch and wizard. Simply flick your wrist as we've been practicing, and say the words "**Wingardium Leviosa**". After looking around to see that none of the students were trying it yet, he huffed,

"Well, go on then-try it."

After watching the other students fail repeatedly, John picked up his wand, an Acacia wand with a Phoenix Feather core, and cleared his throat.

"**Wingardium Leviosa."** He said, being very careful to pronounce the words correctly. He watched with a mixed feeling of awe and happiness as his feather started to rise in correspondence with his wand.

"Very, very good Mr. Watson!" praised Professor Flitwick, "Mr. Moriarty, you also seem to have it! Well done!"

John turned around to see a brunette boy with dark brown eyes smile down at him. John tried smiling back, but something about the boy's smile was…off? It made him feel uneasy. John wasn't sure who the boy was-from his robes it was obvious that he was a Slytherin.

_At least I have his last name._

He returned his focus back to his feather as he lifts it higher and then lowers it in whatever way it pleased him. He watched James next to him still struggle.

"James," John whispered to the brunette, "It helps to pronounce the 'Gar' in **"Wingardium" **and the 'Oh' in "**Leviosa**"-try it."

James nodded and said it once more-this time, the feather rose in correspondence to his wand. The fellow Gryffindor shot John a sunny look before focusing back onto the feather.

Pretty soon, the whole class was able to make their individual feathers rise and fall and do as they pleased.

"Professor Flitwick?" called out a student with a raised hand from behind John. John turned around and sure enough, it was the Slytherin boy.

"Yes Mr. Moriarty?" answered the Professor.

"I was wondering…this charm works on other things besides feathers, right? It can work on, oh, I dunno, people?"

John found himself smiling at the distinctly Irish accent coming from the Slytherin.

"Yes-you can." answered the Professor, "Actually, it was first used by a Warlock in 1544 by the name of Jarieth Hobart. He used the charm on himself in order to fly. However, it didn't get him anywhere-he was unable to actually 'fly'. He just hovered. Good question. But there is another spell to use to actually lift people."

"And what would that be?" asked the boy with an innocent smile.

"The spell would be the '**_Mobilicorpus_**' spell." answered Professor Flitwick proudly, "But you won't need to learn that spell until later."

With that, the class was dismissed. Before John could leave, he was stopped by the Irish Slytherin.

"I don't think I've had the chance to introduce myself," said the boy as he held out his hand, "my name is Jim Moriarty. I see that you are patient and focused in your work."

"Oh," said John, finally realizing who the boy was. Of course-Jim-he was James Moriarty; the boy who was automatically placed into Slytherin house in the beginning of the year. How could he have forgotten?

John blushed as he took Jim's hand and shook it firmly, "I remember you now. You were placed in Slytherin before the hat could be placed fully on your head. Um, my name is John Watson, and thanks." he paused before adding "Although, I think you're great too-you did get it done quickly."

"You're too modest, Johnny." replied Jim as he reclaimed his hand and followed John down the corridor towards the mess hall, "I'm surprised that you remember me from the Sorting Ceremony."

Jim slowed down his pace as he walked, turning towards John, "Also, it seems you've forgotten to give yourself credit for that incident on the train." he said.

This stopped John. He looked at the dark eyed boy and tilted his head,

"You were there?" he asked. Before Jim could speak he realized his mistake and added quickly, "Well, I mean, of course you were there-on the train, I mean. I meant to say you saw what happened?"

Jim smiled once more, "Oh yes, I did. It was quite professional on your behalf."

John tried to ignore the warm sensation spreading throughout his abdomen as he tried to strike up a conversation.

"So I detected an accent-you're Irish, right?" asked John with a smile. Jim nodded,

"That's correct, Johnny-boy." confirmed Jim as he wrapped an arm around John's shoulder as they resumed their walk, "I'm assuming that you like it, don't you?" he said with a coy smile. John only smiled and blushed a little harder.

"Well, you're a good ways away from home." John said. He missed the quick, dark look that overshadowed Jim's sunny composure.

To hear Jim call him such a friendly nickname and touch him made him feel a bit squeamish. Before John could continue the conversation, they entered the Great Hall and Jim slipped away through the crowd with a smile and a wink. John tried following him with his eyes, but a hand landed on his shoulder and startled him.

"John-it's me."

John didn't need to see to know whose voice it was. He turned around and smiled at his Ravenclaw friend.

"Hey Sherlock-how goes it?" he asked as he followed Sherlock to a table and sat down to eat lunch.

Sherlock watched as his friend stacked his plate with food with a slight grimace.

_Food is boring._

"Socially speaking, I'm what you would call 'ok'," he answered, "class was boring. I have a Potions essay due next Tuesday, unfortunately. How about you?"

Before he could take a bite out of his dinner roll, John remembered the book and the Whomping Willow with Lupin.

"I have that essay due as well," said John with a frown, "but first, I have something to say about the Whomping Willow. I know it is new, but I feel that it was planted for a specific reason."

"Oh, I know," said Sherlock matter-of-factly as he finished taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, "it's being used to conceal something."

"How-" John started, but Sherlock interrupted.

"The tree is new, it wasn't needed before. So, someone or something new as well has made the tree's presence necessary. It is guarding something-a tunnel, probably, since it is ground level." Sherlock leaned in closer to his friend and John reflected the action.

"But where does that tunnel go?" whispered Sherlock so quietly that, amongst the hustle and bustle of the large mess hall, John almost didn't hear it.

"And who is using it?" murmured John, biting his lower lip in thought. Sherlock grinned,

"Now _that's _the question."

John leaned back and smiled, "I also found a lost book. Looks like a diary of some sort."

"Oh?" Sherlock said, "Do you have any idea of whose it is?"

"The name says 'Tom Riddle'," John shook his head, "but I have no clue who that is, so I'm going to turn it in after this."

"Would you like me to accompany you?" Sherlock asked, mildly hoping the Gryffindor would say 'yes' as he feigned disinterest.

"That'd be great!" John exclaimed after swallowing a spoonful of mashed potatoes. It only took John about thirteen minutes (12 minutes and 56 seconds: Sherlock had counted) before John was done with his lunch. As soon as he finished, they walked up towards the Headmaster's office. Professor McGonagall sat at a nearby desk writing away on some parchment paper when the two arrived. She lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Sherlock and he sighed.

"John has come across a journal that belongs to a student here," Sherlock explained, "and he wishes to hand it to the Headmaster."

McGonagall only nodded in acknowledgment and motioned for them to continue towards the stairs. John stood admiring the griffin statue for a second before the stairs began to wind upwards towards the ceiling. Befuddled, John's arm flailed outwards until he reached the railing and held on, Sherlock smirking at him from behind.

Eventually, they reached the office to watch Headmaster Dumbledore stop his pacing in front of his desk. He turned around and smiled at the two as they entered.

"Ah, John! Sherlock! What brings you here?" he asked warmly. John smiled,

"I uh, I found a lost journal, it seems and I wanted to give it to you," John said as he pulled the black book out, "since I thought you would know who it belongs to."

"That's very chivalrous of you, John." said the Headmaster with a smile, "I'll award five points to Gryffindor."

John blushed, "Oh, um, okay." Sherlock beamed at his friend while the dirty blond wasn't looking. John handed the book over and watched in mild confusion as something akin to shock flashed across the old man's face.

"Where did you find this?" asked the Headmaster. Sherlock turned to John as the shorter boy furrowed his eyebrows in thought.

"I was walking by the corridors and it just appeared behind me-it sounded as if someone had thrown it." John explained.

Sherlock watched as something dark swam in the Headmaster's eyes before it vanished altogether when Dumbledore smiled.

"I said five points, correct?" he asked. John nodded.

"What I really meant was fifty." He said matter-of-factly before turning back towards his desk and placing the book into one of the drawers. John's eyes widened like saucers and so did Sherlock's.

"Fifty?" John said incredulously, "I-uh, I appreciate that Sir, but may I ask why? You know this student, right Headmaster?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, "I do. You returned a very valuable item to me, and I appreciate it. Now, I am sure you boys have classes to attend to, don't you?" He looked at them sharply and John immediately knew that their conversation was officially over.

"Thank you Sir." John said graciously. Sherlock made to speak but John's arm wrapped around his own securely and John was already starting to move.

_Maybe later I'll ask_ Sherlock thought.

The next day John woke up early at around 6:00 A.M sharp and headed to the mess hall with quills, papers, and Potions text book under his arm. He needed to write that essay-even if it was due next week. Besides that, he really couldn't find sleep anywhere in sight, so with a sigh he sat down, flipped to the assigned pages and started writing.

After a couple of minutes of reading and writing, he became entirely engrossed in what he was doing to the point where he didn't even hear when the other children started pouring into the room nor did he notice when a certain Ravenclaw sat down next to him. After two hours and forty-five minutes, he shut his book, put down his quill and looked up to see Sherlock watching him.

_Had he been watching this whole time? Why hadn't he said anything?_

"G-good morning," stammered John as he put away his school supplies, "how long have you been here?"

Sherlock picked off a single stray strand of white hair off his house cloak-no doubt it was Chronos'. "Around an hour, give or take." he said causally.

"An hour?" repeated John in disbelief, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. I was-"

"You were writing your Potions essay, I know-I saw that," interrupted Sherlock, "I don't see why you'd get it done so early-but I suppose I'm one of the few, if not the only First year who could pull off getting it done the night before."

John rolled his eyes.

_It's people like you, the intelligent procrastinators, that I find myself wanting to strangle_ he thought as he spoke.

"Well, I'm just not a big believer in procrastination, that's all." explained John as he started filling his plate with breakfast food.

"Yes, I see that," remarked Sherlock as he watched John, "another one of your charming military qualities."

The tips of John's ears burned as he smiled graciously at the compliment-they were rare when it came to Sherlock-and watched Sherlock to see if he were to take any food. Once he saw that no, Sherlock was not going to eat, his smile melted into a frown. Sherlock noticed this and gave him a questioning look.

"Are you not going to eat?" asked John between bites of a breakfast biscuit.

"If you are asking to have my share, go ahead." said Sherlock, misinterpreting John's intentions. John shook his head,

"No- I'm not asking for your share. I'm asking because eating is important and I don't see you touching any of the food-I haven't seen you eat since yesterday."

"That's because eating is boring and a waste of time." answered Sherlock stoically. John blinked.

"Hahaha, No," smiled John as he grabbed a biscuit and handed it to Sherlock, "eat this." he commanded as he made Sherlock take it.

Sherlock looked down at it for a moment and handed it back.

"No."

John could feel a sliver of annoyance start to slither through his body and coil in the middle of his chest. He gave it back to Sherlock.

"If you don't eat this, your body-_let alone your mind_-will deteriorate. Now do it."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "Why do you care? It's not your body."

_That's it._

Sherlock watched with horror as John quickly stood up and banged his hands on the table, sending many interested glances and confused looks their way,

"_You're my friend, that's why!_" whispered-more like hissed-John. Sherlock wasn't sure what terrified him more-the fact that someone cared enough about him to make him eat, or the fact that instead of yelling, John was in complete control of his voice.

It was fascinating.

The Ravenclaw took the biscuit from off the tablecloth quietly and started munching on it. John slowly sat down and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Thank you." said John, "it makes me feel better to know that you are eating _something_."

Sherlock muffled something inaudible behind his biscuit and John leaned closer to catch what his friend was saying, but Sherlock only colored slightly and refused to speak.

"Sherlock, what did you say-whatever it is, it is important." said John gently; he'd already figured out that it wasn't good to demand anything from Sherlock if you wanted to know something.

Sherlock swallowed the remaining bits of the biscuit and took a swig of his pumpkin juice before answering.

"It's nothing," said Sherlock, "it's just that no one has ever cared about what I eat-if I even eat at all."

Ice coursed through John's veins as Sherlock's words sunk in. He watched as Sherlock tried to play it off cool but John could see right through it. Instead of pointing it out, he left it alone-he was well aware of the Ravenclaw's pride.

_No one deserves to be ignored like that. No one._

"Well," said John softly, _that's what friends are for_ he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. It sounded too cliché. Instead, he patted Sherlock on the back, "you have me." he said with a reassuring smile.

He thought he saw a smile flash across Sherlock's face, but if he did, it was only for a second. He checked his pocket watch and smiled,

"It is 8:30 A.M, we should head to Charms class." suggested John as he stood up and slung his back pack over his shoulder. Sherlock followed silently.

Charms passed by quickly in John's eyes-yet everything he did with Sherlock seemed to go by in a blur. Pretty soon, they arrived at their Defense Against the Dark Arts class together and took their seats next to each other. Mr. Merrythought strolled in and taught avidly about '**Mucus ad Nauseam'**, or most commonly known as 'Curse of Bogies'- a curse that apparently gives your enemy a horrible cold and runny nose.

John found himself really hating it-probably because he did want to become a Healer. Sherlock caught onto this and gave him a shrug that somehow translated into 'sorry-but-it's-part-of-the-curriculum'. John smiled and was able to let the annoyance go.

After classes ended the two of them found themselves relaxing outside underneath one of the many shady oak trees on campus, Sherlock with his nose in his book and John with his wand, practicing his charms.

"**_Wingardium Leviosa!_****"** said John as he pointed at an at least fifteen pound boulder near the tree. It rose with ease and followed John's commands until he set it down next to Sherlock under the tree. Sherlock raised an eyebrow but continued reading. John pointed his wand at the boulder and with a 'S' like flick of the wrist then murmured

"**_Spongify!_****"**

John bent over and poked the boulder-which was now bouncy and rubbery. He smiled triumphantly before he sprawled out on his back, head resting comfortably on the boulder as he watched the clouds go by. Sherlock wouldn't say it out loud, but he found himself thoroughly impressed. After a couple of minutes of observing the Cumulus clouds, John spoke up.

"Hey, Sherlock?" John asked, his eyes never leaving the sky.

"Yes?" answered Sherlock without looking up from the text.

"Do you think Magic can touch the clouds?" asked John, almost sheepishly. It sounded silly now that he'd said it out loud. Sherlock lowered his book and squinted up at the clouds too before returning to the text.

"I don't know." he answered, "I've never tried it."

"Never?" asked John, more to himself than to his friend. Sherlock shrugged. John stood up, pulled out his wand and pointed it up at the sky. Sherlock watched with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, let's find out." smiled John.

This time, Sherlock put down his book.

Slowly, he focused his wand at a cloud and moved it over to the right. Sherlock and John watched with wide eyes as the cloud started to move to John's whim. He continued to manipulate it until the Cumulus cloud straightened out and became Cirrus in nature, their wispy tendrils stroking the blue sky.

Later on that night, John sat in the Gryffindor common room, staring at the fire and trying to come up with a way to allow him and Sherlock to get to the Whomping Willow and see what exactly it was hiding. As he racked his mind for any sort of concealing charm or potion he might know, a sudden tap on his left shoulder made him look over at empty space. He looked around to find himself alone, and after a moment of looking around, passed it off as his imagination.

Approximately fifteen seconds later, he felt something tap the top of his head. He looked up and sure enough-nothing. He jumped up and pulled out his wand,

"Show yourself!" demanded John, his eyes darting around the room, pointing his wand at each shadow that danced on the walls near the fireplace.

He felt another tap on his left shoulder and reacted quickly-he grabbed at the area where the touch came from and came into contact with something tangible. He swiftly flipped the unseen, yet tangible object over his shoulder and listened to a loud _thud_ as something fell onto the floor. He kneeled down and nearly jumped out of his skin when, out of nowhere, James appeared, holding a shimmering dark colored cloak.

"What was that?" John shrieked as he helped James up on his feet and onto a nearby chair.

"I was just messing with you," breathed James as he adjusted his glasses, "I had no idea how strongly you'd react."

John sighed, "Sorry about that," he said while rubbing the back of his head, "I'm a military brat-you pick up a thing or two about self-defense." He eyed the cloak in James' hand, "what in the world is that?"

James smiled up at John, "it's an Invisibility cloak-it makes the wearer invisible. I got it from my father before I arrived here." He took the cloak and gave it to John, "try it on."

John gave him a questioning look, but did what he was told. He placed the cloak on his shoulders and wrapped himself in it. Sure enough, when he looked down his torso, legs, and arms were missing. He unwrapped himself slowly and watched as they revealed themselves.

"Wicked," breathed John as he handed the cloak back to James, "that's one fantastic object." An idea suddenly bloomed into his mind.

"Hey James," he said as he sat back down next to the brunette, "do you think I could borrow this tomorrow night after Astronomy? I promise to keep it in good condition and I'll give it back as soon as I come back to the dorm."

"You want it for Wednesday night, huh? Sure-why not?" said James with a smile, "if you ever need to use it, just ask and I'll make sure to give it to you to use."

John let out a breath he had been holding and wrapped James in a hug, "Thanks mate!" he exclaimed before letting the boy go.

"No problem," said James with a sloppy grin. John stole a glance at the clock and patted James on the shoulder,

"Alright, It's 8:45 p.m., I'm headed off to bed. See you in the morning."

"Oh, and John?"

John stopped and turned around on the stairs as he listened to James.

"The cloak doesn't allow you to sneak into the girl's dormitories-I've already tried that." said James rather sheepishly.

John just smirked and shook his head.

"Thanks for the warning, mate."

**Wonder who James was trying to go and see in the Girl's Dormitories…Oooooh~hahahaha! I hope you're enjoying this story so far-please leave comments on what you like, dislike (I hope there's not anything for you to dislike), what to see~ I'd appreciate it ****J**


	4. Interactions

Wizarding Realm of Holmes and Watson

By: Texmex007

Chapter (1) The Beginning That Paved Way to Everything

Year One: Part 4: Interactions

**We are going to the Whomping Willow after Astronomy. I have a plan. –JW**

Sherlock eyed the note before stealing a glance at John beside him, who, at the moment, was hastily scribbling down History of Magic notes that the spirit of Professor Binns was mindlessly droning on and on about. He caught John looking at him and with a small nod, the two went back to taking notes (well, John went back to note taking, Sherlock tried his best to not fall asleep or offend the teacher).

If the Professor wasn't already dead, Sherlock would have seriously enjoyed picking which of the multiple murder scenarios that were going on in his head that he could personally solve for the ghost's death, which reminded him- how exactly did Professor Binns die? He sorted the question in one of the many files in his Mind Palace to ask later.

11:00 A.M.

Before either of the boys knew it, an hour had flown by. With the dismissal of the Professor, the two headed into one of the many corridors that leads out towards the Great Hall for lunch.

"Are you going to tell me about the note or not?" asked Sherlock as nonchalantly as possible, trying very, very hard to conceal his curiosity.

John shrugged.

"That shrug meant either you didn't really have a plan, or that you didn't want to tell me yet. Which is it?" asked Sherlock after John found a seat. The blonde grabbed a slice of cornbread and sunk his teeth into it.

John shrugged once more as he ate.

"That shrug meant that you aren't telling me, doesn't it?" demanded Sherlock, his full attention on John now. John looked up at his friend with a sly smile and shrugged one last time.

"I hate you." mumbled Sherlock with an angry pout, now turning around in his seat and poking at his food.

John could only smile. It made him feel special to know that only he could make Sherlock pout like a five year old. He found it to be quite adorable.

_Wait-did I just think of Sherlock as adorable?_

"Hey John!" called out Remus from John's right. Remus' greeting was enough to tear him from that thought as he looked up in time to watch James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter sit down on both sides of him and start piling their plates with food.

"Hello guys," answered John, "How goes it?"

"Well," asked Sirius, "have you read the Daily Prophet?"

John shook his head and James quickly supplied him with one. He looked at the front cover and his eyes widened.

"Sherlock." he said, making the Ravenclaw turn around once more.

"What?" asked Sherlock annoyed with John's interruption of his thoughts of him. He stared at the front page with narrowed eyes;

"THE DARK LORD HAS YET AGAIN TAKEN MORE VICTIMS."

"You act as if I don't read the daily newspaper, John." mused Sherlock before turning his back on his friend once more. John ignored his petulance as Peter tapped his shoulder.

"There's news of you-know-who that say he has acquired over thirty followers," whispered Peter with wide, blue eyes, "and some of his followers are related to Sirius."

All four boys turned to look at Sirius, who was looking into his goblet of pumpkin juice with a grim expression.

"Is that true, Sirius?" asked John quietly.

"Yes, it is," answered the dark haired boy, "my family is a pure-blood fanatic; I guess it's only natural that they would be following you-know-who."

"Well, is there any way of knowing who is a follower of the Dark Lord?" asked John as he squeezed Sirius' shoulder lightly before letting his hand fall back onto his lap. Sirius shook his head.

"Well, there is _one _way," answered Sherlock as he spun around in on the bench and faced the five Gryffindor boys, "those who are serious followers of the Dark Lord are more than likely to bear the Dark Mark." he explained while rolling up his left shirt sleeve, revealing a flash of pale white skin and placing his palm up, pointing to the region of the forearm,

"The Dark Mark looks like a skull, with a snake protruding out of the mouth instead of a tongue." He said, tracing the image with his finger onto his skin.

"Also, the Dark Mark can be conjured by the 'Morsmordre' spell." continued Sherlock with a smirk as he smoothed his shirt sleeve down, "I'd show it to you, but I really don't feel like being expelled in my first year here."

"You know an awful lot, don't you boy?"

The six boys looked up from their tables to see a Seventh year looking down at Sherlock. Sherlock examined the boy for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. The seventeen year old stared down at him with cold, grey eyes, his pointed nose somewhat turned up and his mouth pinched into a small snarl. The young man's hair, light blonde, fell around his shoulders in a ponytail. John couldn't help but notice the black cane he carried around-the silver cobra's head glinting in the sunlight, as if it were blinking at him.

This Seventh year was giving John a major case of the chills.

"You're Lucius Malfoy." stated Sherlock matter-of-factly.

"And you are Sherlock Holmes." mused Lucius as he idly dusted off an imaginary dust bunny from his Slytherin robes.

John felt the urge to add "_and I'm John Watson."_ but kept his tongue-he figured by the authoritarian air around the blonde that his voice would not be welcome.

"What do you want?" asked Sherlock impatiently, "Did Mycroft send you here?"

The Seventh year scowled in reply.

"That's what I thought," continued Sherlock, obviously annoyed now, "so what does he want from me?"

"Actually," said Lucius snootily, "Mr. Holmes is looking for John Watson."

The tips of John's ears burned at the mention of his name.

"What does he want with John?" demanded Sherlock, this time standing up and glaring at Lucius.

"That doesn't concern you." retorted Lucius with a malicious grin. He scanned the other five boys, "Well, are you going to tell me which one is John, or will the boy step up for himself?"

"Well, you can tell Mycroft that he's a pompous arse and he can leave John alone!" snarled Sherlock as he sat back down, feeling a tad bit desperate to keep his friend to himself. He crossed his arms in retaliation.

John rolled his eyes and stood up; "I'm John Watson." he answered tiredly. Sherlock turned to him with an incredulous 'Did-you-really-just-do-that' face, to which John answered with a rather annoyed 'Yes-I-did-just-really-do-that' face. Sherlock sat back down with a huff.

Lucius turned to him with a condescending smirk, "Well then, of course you are."

"May I ask what Sherlock's brother wants with me?" asked John as he stepped away from the booth and stopped in front of the Seventh year, his back strait, his eyes narrow.

_"__Keep a stiff upper lip, soldier!"_ John's father's voice drifted into his head as he stared up at Lucius.

"Mr. Holmes wants to see you right away," explained Lucius, "so I'll be leading you down to the Slytherin Common Room now."

John shrugged and started to follow Lucius away from the table.

"Wait!" shouted Sherlock as he started to lift his legs over the bench. Lucius spun around and pointed his cane at Sherlock, the silver cobra head stopping a few inches away from the Ravenclaw's face.

"Stand down Sherlock." warned Lucius. Sherlock's eyes were wide as he glared up at the blonde before slowly sitting back down and scowling.

When John and Lucius were out of sight, Remus turned to Sherlock,

"Everything will be ok, won't it?" he asked, trying to console the taller boy.

Sherlock just shook his head,

"You don't know my brother."

The walk down to the Slytherin Common Room had been a rather quiet one. John had never been to the Slytherin Common Room-he never really had an excuse to go,

_Besides seeing Jim _he thought with a small smile. Over the past few months he had also been frequented with Jim's presence-although, now that he thought about it, he never saw Jim while Sherlock was around. Besides Jim, nothing about going to the Slytherin Common Room seemed all too exciting.

Actually, he had thought of multiple excuses in the past not to go, the main one being that he was a Gryffindor, who's scarlet and gold colors seemed as a not too welcome sight to the Slytherin House.

_Bloody politics_ he thought with a slight frown.

As they grew closer to the Common Room, John crinkled his nose in discomfort from the obvious mildew and dank odor emitting from the walls of the hallway.

_Is there water somewhere around here or something? _He thought as he noticed the dark grey stains running down the cobblestone walls of the tunnel.

Lucius smirked at him, and spoke as if reading his mind.

"The Slytherin Common Room is underneath the Black Lake," explained Lucius, "the location allows Slytherin students to have an exclusive view of the marine life under its serene surface."

"That's pretty neat." said John, offering a smile.

The two soon reached a bare, stone wall at the end of the tunnel. John gave it a questioning look before he turned his attention to Lucius, who had just pulled on the silver cobra head to reveal a wand. John fought the urge to compliment him on the accessory as the Seventh year pointed it to the wall.

"Pure-Blood." said Lucius.

John watched in awe as the wall then began to separate as if by an unseen seam, revealing a hidden room behind it. Lucius lightly pushed John until the boy started to move forward towards the room, his thoughts still whirling about the wall that had just _opened itself up._

"Trust me," said Lucius flatly, "it gets old after the first three times."

When they entered the room, the first thing John noticed was the lighting-it was dim green glow that radiated from the green lamps strung about the Common Room, capturing everything in the room from the dark leather sofas to the emerald green carved arm chairs.

The second thing John noticed was that the room was void of all students except for a tall, minutely large around the waist brunette boy occupying one of the arm chairs. The boy crossed his legs and picked up a black umbrella that had previously been lying on the ground as John entered the room.

"You may leave us now Lucius." said the boy, his voice droll and thick with authority.

Lucius gave a curt bow before heading back towards the Great Hall, leaving the two alone.

"You may sit if you'd like, Mr. Watson," said the Second year, "or you may remain standing."

"Aren't you a Ravenclaw?" John inquired, pointing at the blue and silver tie the other boy wore.

"I am." said the older boy as if that was all the explanation he'd need, "Now will you sit or not?"

John sat down across from him with a wary look.

"My name is Mycroft Holmes-Sherlock's older brother-but you already know that," explained Mycroft with a forced smile, "I know you are probably wondering why I have sent for you to come down here."

John nodded.

"Well, you see," said Mycroft as he twirled his umbrella idly, "Sherlock isn't one to get close to anybody, and in the couple of weeks that you have known him, he seems to have grown quite attached to you."

John's ears burned red but he said nothing. After waiting to see that John wasn't going to interrupt, he continued.

"Well, as you probably already know, Sherlock hates me. I never really know what he is up to, and as a big brother, there is only so much that I can allow for him to do without the need for interference." explained Mycroft slowly, allowing each word to sink its way into John's understanding, Mycroft paused.

"Which leads me to why you are here: I need you, John Watson, to keep an eye on my brother for me."

John blinked.

"Seriously?" asked John in unbelief, "You want me to look after your baby brother?"

"That is what I said, isn't it?" asked Mycroft, his voice mocking, "So will you do it?"

"No."

Mycroft stared at the blond. He fought the urge to question himself if the boy in front of him had really said 'no', but he knew it would only make him look stupid if he did so, so he narrowed his eyes and stopped twirling his umbrella.

"Excuse you?" he said warningly.

"I said 'No', did you not hear me the first time?" asked John defiantly, crossing his arms and staring down the brunette.

"I was giving you a fair chance to reconsider." explained Mycroft, his voice soft as a parent's when they explained something important to a stubborn child.

"You are supposed to be your own brother's keeper," said John, thinking of Harriet and her protectiveness of him, and his over her, "It is your responsibility to get his whereabouts and plans from him-if he won't tell you, then you can bet that I won't either."

"You are making a big mistake here." warned Mycroft, but it fell on deaf ears.

"I'll take care of him-I'll make sure he stays safe," said John in an assuring tone as he rose up from the chair and made his way to the door. He turned around once, his eyes narrow and his voice cold,

"But I won't go tattling to you about his every single action."

By the time John had made his way back to the Great Hall lunch time was already over, much to his dismay. He looked around the empty room and sighed, the thought of his missed meal weighing on his mind as he stopped by the dorm, grabbing his backpack, ready to head out to class, anxious for Astronomy, Sherlock, and the cloak inside his backpack as he hurried down the corridors.

John stepped into the dark Astronomy room at around 11:00 P.M-an hour early. He knew that of course, but since he couldn't think of anything else to do, he had decided that coming to class a little early wouldn't be such a bad idea.

He shut the door behind him and took a deep breath as the darkness enveloped him, leaving all visual distractions in the light as his mind became a more real dimension; letting his breath go slowly as he felt his body's senses heighten-aware of the pressure the backpack's strap held on his shoulder, of the outlines of desks, cabinets, and the telescope in the center of the room.

The one thing he was most aware of, however, was the sound of someone other than himself taking in the same air he was breathing.

"Not afraid of the dark, are you Johnny-boy?" said a voice from his immediate right. He slowly turned to the voice, something stirring deep inside of him as he put a face to the Irish accent that, against his better wishes, set the tips of his ears on fire.

"Hello Jim," answered John as he reached out his hands to feel the desk on which the Irish boy was sitting on top of.

His fingers brushed against the cold marble desk until they came into contact with something warm and soft-the other boy's hand. Something shot through his arm like electricity as his hand recoiled back to his side, his cheeks burning and his stomach fluttering nervously.

"S-sorry," said John quickly, fumbling over his words, "I did not-didn't-mean to-"

Jim grinned in the dark.

"No, it's ok," assured Jim, reaching out, grabbing John by the cloak and pulling him closer until John stood directly in front of him, "I'd actually like to feel that again."

"You-I'm sorry, what?" asked John stupidly. He wasn't sure what Jim had meant, not exactly, and it was making him feel really, really nervous to be so close to another person-let alone another boy.

A single memory invaded his mind as he stood close to Jim, feeling the other boy's breath mingling with his own.

_"__Harry, can you keep a secret?" asked John as he sat on his older sister's bed, watching her drink something out of a brown paper bag. After taking another swig of the mystery liquid, she shot him a confused look._

_"__Of course I can Jumpers," she answered with a smile. When she saw how serious her little brother was, she quickly straightened up, put the bag on the nightstand, and held out her hand for him to take, which he did. "What is it, John?" she asked quietly, waiting for the nine year old to speak._

_"__I…Harry, I can't-you can't tell anybody; especially Mum and Dad, okay?" demanded John, his cobalt blue eyes staring up into Harry's. She immediately became concerned._

_"__What is it, John, what happened?" she inquired, searching his face, "Was it something that happened at school? Did someone hurt you?"_

_"__No, no, no," rushed John, offering a small smile, and a squeeze of her hand, "it's just… Remember the time you picked me up from football practice, and you asked me 'what's her name, John? You have a crush, don't you?' and I told you her name was Mary?" he asked urgently, hoping she was catching on._

_"__Yeah," she said after a moment of searching through her thoughts, "I remember. What about her-did something happen?"_

_John smiled for a moment as he looked down at the floor, "I lied back then."_

_"__What-" began Harry, but John continued._

_"__I lied when I said her name was 'Mary'" confessed John, "actually, I lied when I said 'her'" he looked up at her at that moment, "I had meant to say that his name was Mark."_

_John watched as Harriet's eyes widened in recognition as he spoke. "Harry, I think I'm gay."_

_The two siblings were quiet for a moment before Harry pulled him in for a big hug._

_ "__You're okay, John," she cooed, feeling her brother's body shudder in her arms. She didn't have to look to see that he was crying. It had been two years ago since she had come out to their parents herself that she was gay. They hadn't taken it too well-they didn't attack her for it, but as far as she remembered, they sure as hell didn't support her either._

_"__John, you have nothing to be ashamed of," she said sternly, pulling him away to look him in the eyes, "we cannot help who we feel attracted to. But don't you dare deny your feelings because of other people's set of ideals, do you hear me?"_

_John nodded slowly._

_"__I mean it too," said Harry, reaching out and grabbing the brown paper bag from the nightstand, "You will always be my baby brother." _

_She handed him the paper bag, to which John took with a questioning look before taking a drink of the concealed liquid. Whatever it was, it burned his throat as he swallowed, filling the pit of his stomach with a warm, tingling sensation. It tasted strong-too strong, and he didn't really like it. He gave it back to Harry without a word._

_"__Can you keep a secret too?" she asked with a wink, "don't tell Mum and Dad that I let you drink that-Oh, don't let them know I have that either."_

_"__What is that?" asked John with a frown, the fire in his stomach settling._

_"__It's called Whisky," answered Harriet, "but seriously-don't tell Mum and Dad."_

_"__I won't if you won't." replied John with a smile._

_"__You got yourself a deal." said Harriet with a wink._

John felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, Jim's breath on his neck as he spoke.

"Lost in thought, are we, Johnny?" asked Jim quietly. John shivered and forced himself to step back, away from Jim's grip and towards the door, turning on the lights with a flick of the switch.

"I'm really, really sorry," explained John, "but I barely know you."

He watched as Jim crossed his legs and peered up at him behind dark lashes.

"But it's obvious that you're attracted to me," said Jim with a smug smile.

"I'm not-" John was cut off by the wave of Jim's finger and the boy's disappointed tutting.

"No, no, no," said Jim, "don't lie to me-I know when someone lies to me, so don't even."

John rolled his eyes at his Slytherin friend, his cheeks burning at Jim's forwardness.

"You like me." said Jim matter-of-factly as he hopped off the table, walking towards John and looking into those all too expressive cobalt eyes. John's breath hitched as he backed into the wall, Jim standing inches away from him.

"And you wanna know a secret?" asked Jim with a slight smirk on his face.

"What?" asked John, his voice coming out as a voice barely above whisper.

Jim leaned closer, his lips grazing the Gryffindor's ear as he spoke.

"I like you too."

Jim quickly stepped away and sat at his desk as the door to the Astronomy room opened and Professor Sinistra entered the room.

"Hello boys," greeted the tan woman, as she walked to the other side of the room to adjust the telescope.

"Hello," greeted the boys in unison.

When the teacher was out of earshot, Jim turned to John and winked.

"I'll give you time to think about what I told you," said Jim, "there isn't any need to rush."

With that, Jim settled back into his seat and resumed the role of a stranger to John like he did every time they went to class. John had asked him about it once, and Jim had only smiled cryptically and said it was for his own protection.

_Protection from what, though?_

Sherlock finally walked into the Astronomy room, still on time but on the cusp of being late. He strolled over to John and took his seat next to the Gryffindor.

"What took you so long?" asked John as the Ravenclaw sat down next to him.

"I was making sure we had everything we would need in check for our..." Sherlock lowered his voice, "little excursion after class."

"Ah." said John. Before he could speak another word, Professor Sinistra started the class, instructing each student to take out their telescopes before pointing at the night sky.

John suddenly became entirely engrossed in his telescope as he listened to the teacher explain in great detail about the properties of Jupiter and its many moons, not aware of the two sets of eyes, one belonging to a Slytherin while the other a Ravenclaw, sneaking admiring glances at him as he stared up at the night sky in wonder.

After class, John watched Jim send Sherlock and him a questioning look as they lingered behind all the other students before taking his leave without a word. It hurt John to see his good friend leave without trying to ask what he and Sherlock might be up to, and despite his best efforts, it showed on his face.

"What's wrong, John?" inquired Sherlock, watching the Gryffindor put away his telescope with a melancholy expression. John quickly offered up a warm smile and shook his head.

"Nothing-nothing's wrong," said John in an assuring tone, "I'm just hoping that everything goes well."

Sherlock knew better than to pursue-if John didn't want to tell him, he'd best not ask. However, that didn't mean his curiosity was quelled.

"We'll be fine," said Sherlock, packing everything away, "so how are we getting to the tree without anyone seeing us-did you find a spell or potion we could use?"

"Nah," replied John, pulling out James' cloak, "I've got something even better."

John wrapped himself in the cloak, showing Sherlock just what it could do. Sherlock watched in fascination as John's torso disappeared, only to reappear when he took the cloak off.

"Brilliant." he said, taking the cloak and examining it with his hands, "It's an invisibility cloak-how'd you come across it?"

"It belongs to James Potter," explained John, as he draped the cloak over both him and Sherlock, "he's let me borrow it-now come on, let's go."


	5. Revelation

Wizarding Realm of Holmes and Watson

By: Texmex007

Chapter (1) The Beginning That Paved Way to Everything

Year One: Part 5: Revelation

It didn't take long for the duo to reach the well feared willow tree. They treaded carefully, each breath muffled behind one hand and their wands held tight in the other, the full moon shining down on the two as they continued their trek, illuminating the path.

"**_Immobulus_**!" John said as he pointed his wand at the tree. Immediately the raging and swinging tree froze. An owl swooped in and landed on one of the many branches before it began grooming itself in the moonlight.

"That's really going to piss it off." John said with a chuckle.

"I'm sure you're right." Sherlock said, smirking.

As they reached the base of the Willow, Sherlock spotted an extremely low to the ground tunnel nestled underneath one of its large roots. With a nod, John followed after him into the tunnel and, seeing that the coast was clear, threw off the cloak and illuminated his wand.

"So what now?" inquired John after they stepped into the safety of the tunnel.

"Hmm…" said Sherlock after illuminating his wand and he took in his surroundings.

_Recently made dirt tunnel, leads to ? Purpose of the tunnel? User of the tunnel?_

_Need more data._

"We see where it leads." said Sherlock, looping his arm around John's and quickening his pace. Although John wouldn't say it, he was pleased in his friend's closeness.

_Who else can say that the Sherlock Holmes doesn't mind interlocking arms with you? _thought John with a small smile. It was a privilege more than anything, in his opinion.

"So, Mycroft offered you monetary payment in order to spy on me, correct?" said Sherlock out of the blue. John blinked, startled from his own thoughts.

"Um, yeah-" answered John, but before he could continue, Sherlock held him back and looked him in the eyes, his stature rigid and his eyes cold.

"Did you take him up on his offer, John?" Sherlock's question hung heavy in the air between the two boys. John smiled sweetly, his tone sincere.

"No, Sherlock, I didn't." he said, "but I did promise him I'd make sure you'd be safe-that'd I'd protect you. Is that alright?"

Sherlock's eyes widened for a moment before he closed them, thanking his luck for finding such a good friend.

"That's great, John. Thank you."

Comfortable silence soon wound itself between the two boys as they continued their trek, the only sounds were a night-time melody composed through the quiet breathes and scrunching of tennis shoes on damp leaves. When the two reached the end of the tunnel, John was first to climb up the ladder and open the hatch leading to another room altogether.

The moment after John helped Sherlock up into the room and surveyed his surroundings, he immediately wanted to crawl back down the tunnel and high-tail it back to the Gryffindor Common Room, and more importantly, back to his bed.

Through the moonlight provided by the shredded window curtains occupying the room, the boys were able to look around and gain their bearings. Curtains hung lifelessly, bombarded with muddy smudges everywhere, unkempt and unloved like a dirty old dish rag.

Some of the windows themselves had been smashed out and boarded back up clumsily, wooden planks askew as they attempted to keep out-or keep in whatever they contained. The rest of the room was trashed; a desk-or more accurately, what was _left_ of the desk-had been ripped apart, splintered wood strewn about everywhere like strapnel and yellowed parchment paper littered the floor like the leaves outside while dust swirled and settled around the room like tainted snow.

"Where _are _we?" inquired John, turning his head around to watch Sherlock reach the top of the ladder.

"It appears to be an abandoned house," said Sherlock. The sudden sound of something smashing against the wall upstairs stilled both the boys in an instant.

"I take that back," whispered Sherlock, standing rigid, "I don't think it's abandoned."

_No shit, Sherlock_ thought John, his annoyance flaring. Last thing he needed was to get caught by a professor or anyone else with high authority and get expelled during his first year at Hogwarts.

John motioned Sherlock to be quiet as he took a step forward towards the stairs, never once lowering his wand; the Incendio spell on the tip of his tongue, ready to be spoken in a moment's notice. With a deep breath, he stepped onto the first step slowly until no creak could be heard before putting his full weight into it.

Despite their silence, however, the sounds of clawing and whimpering scraped through the empty house like nails on a chalkboard. John then stepped onto the next one, and the next-when nothing happened, he motioned Sherlock to follow him.

They tip-toed up the stairs until they reached the top of the stairs, walked very slowly towards a room, and pressed their backs against the wall as more inhumane sounds could be heard. To Sherlock, the only sound that could be likened to it was a dying wolf. Sherlock took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his nerves. As soon as he let out his breath, the noises stopped-whatever was in the room had stilled, as if it were listening.

_Bloody Hell._

The two stared at each other with wide eyes, both struggling to keep their breathing under control as they listened for the creature to make a noise-any kind of noise that would let them know it wasn't coming after them. Sherlock shot his hand out to John in order to comfort the other (So he told himself) and squeezed John's hand tightly when the Gryffindor reciprocated. After what felt like an hour (but was only three minutes-Sherlock had counted) they could hear the creature start to scrape against what appeared to be the walls inside the room once more.

Carefully, very carefully, John leaned away from the wall and peered into the room, Sherlock standing closely behind and looking over John's shoulder. John immediately backed up a little only to press into the taller boy even more as his eyes registered the big, brown creature in the middle of the room with its back turned to the duo, his cobalt blue eyes widening once more and blinking rapidly as he put a name to the creature.

_Werewolf._

Sherlock tried swallowing, but his mouth had suddenly became exceedingly dry as he stood there, mouth agape as he tried to process what he was seeing. A juvenile werewolf alright, judging by its small stature. S_o they are real._ If Hippogriffs and dragons were real, then of course Werewolves were real too, but that didn't seem to help the immense amount of fear that was coursing through his veins.

He was thrown off guard as he felt John bump into him and suddenly remembered that it was of utmost import that he got him and John out immediately-even though he really, _really _wanted to get a closer look at the werewolf…

From what he could see here, it seemed that the juvenile werewolf had once been wearing clothes-from what Sherlock could see he was able to observe some sort of pinstriped flannel pajamas depicting what appeared to be western print with horses and lassoes-or whatever were left of it. Now, due to the transformation it had been shredded into near ribbons and hanging loosely off the creature's enlarged frame.

He shook his head, shaking out the temptation to move closer as he grabbed John's arm and backtracked, dragging John with him as they tried their best to be quiet. After descending down the stairs, they fled towards the trap door and John had to fight his body in order to shut the trap door quietly instead of slamming it like he really wanted to do. When they reached the hall, the two boys stood there quietly, both panting hard as Sherlock doubled over and John leaned against the wall. After a moment of deep breathing, Sherlock looked up and made eye contact with John, smirking a little at the Gryffindor as he slowed his breathing.

"That was wicked," said John, letting out a nervous, little chuckle as Sherlock straighten up and illuminated his wand, "I've never done anything like that."

Sherlock grinned, "If you lived with me, you would've thought that was Mycroft after someone in the house took the last slice of chocolate cake."

John burst out laughing, Sherlock joining him, "but seriously, that was a werewolf, wasn't it?" asked John as he started walking back towards the entrance of the tunnel, willing Sherlock to join him.

"Yes it was," said Sherlock, frowning as he thought about the creature, "it's definitely a werewolf."

"Well, what do we know about werewolves?" asked John.

"Hmmm, well, lycanthropy is similar to having a virus," said Sherlock as he tucked his hands behind his back, content on using John's wand light to see, "so when a human is bit by one the human will be turned into a werewolf themselves on full moons. Do you know what this means?"

He stopped walking and whirled around to face John, a somewhat condescending smirk on lips as he studied John's face for confusion. He bit back a laugh as he watched John's face contort in thought before he answered.

"We've got a professor or student who's a werewolf." said John monotonously as he rubbed his face, trying to believe in what he'd just said.

"Very good. It's a student." said Sherlock, turning back around and walking towards the entrance once more.

"How do you know that?" asked John, strolling beside him.

"Its size was too small to be considered as an adult-so it's a student," answered Sherlock, "and besides; have you ever heard of a professor who wears cowboy pajamas to bed?" he paused to watch John smirk before continuing, "I didn't think so. Which then brings us back to the original question: who's using this house?"

John was quiet, trying to figure out who could possibly be a werewolf without success.

"I have no idea." admitted John with a huff. They reached the end of the tunnel and he pulled out the invisibility cloak and draped it over them, silencing them both. When they reached the Ravenclaw Common Room, Sherlock slipped from underneath the cloak and opened the door-but before entering he turned around and smiled at where he figured John was standing.

John smiled back underneath the cloak before heading back to the Gryffindor Common Room and hanging the cloak on James' bedpost, stifling a laugh as he watched James snore open-mouthed and everything. He glanced over at the grandfather clock and nearly keeled over as he read the time.

2:30 A.M

He bit back a groan as he grabbed his pajamas and toothbrush and headed to the bathroom, dreading the time and wishing that he didn't have Potions in six hours.

_The large werewolf stood in front of John and Sherlock, barring its yellow teeth and snarling at them as the two slowly backed out of the room. John's hand shot out from his side and clutched his best friend's tightly as it stalked ever closer. John tried to pull Sherlock with him as he turned to run out the door. However, Sherlock wouldn't budge as the werewolf drew ever closer, its foul breath condensing on their cheeks as it stared them down through glassy, red eyes. John's eyes darted over to Sherlock, who wore a calm and placid expression._

_ "__Everything is under control, John." drawled Sherlock as he dropped his hand, taking a step forward-_

_ "__NO!" shouted John, groping the air as he watched in horror as the werewolf took Sherlock by his torso and flung him across the room like an unwanted child's doll, his body slamming against the dilapidated wall, dry wall puffing out in protest as Sherlock's body slid towards the floor and crumpled over._

_"__Sherlock!" John shouted, pushing past the creature and racing over to the curly haired boy. He dropped down to his knees and picked his head up and rested it on his lap, running his fingers through the boy's hair and fighting back a sob._

_"__Sherlock, wake up!" he said, picking up his wrist and checking his pulse, concentrating hard on finding that desired sign of some sort of heartbeat. He waited. And he waited._

_Nothing._

_"__Sherlock..?" he whispered, holding him closer to his chest, the boy's eyes closed shut. If John didn't know any better, he would have thought the boy was asleep._

_"__Sherlock!" John shook him, watching Sherlock's head loll to one side.  
>"SHERLOCK!"<em>

John woke with a start that morning, his body shivering in a cold sweat and his white t-shirt sticking to him incessantly as he looked around the dorm room to find that everyone was still asleep. He checked his alarm clock and sighed.

6:00 A.M

For a second he thought about going back to bed, but with the chilly damp shirt that clung to him and his heart still pounding heavily behind the confines of his ribs he decided against it. There was another part of him that whispered in a very tiny voice that he should go and check on Sherlock, but his logic got the best of him. Sherlock was fine-right?

He rubbed his face tiredly and swung his legs over the edge and stood up slowly, easing himself into a stretch before picking up his toiletry basket, his day clothes, a towel, and his wand before heading out the dormitory.

The trek wasn't so difficult. He walked down the hall with his towel and clothes draped over one arm and his basket hanging off the other, relishing the quiet of the school as he reached the boy's bathroom. He opened the door and peered into the room before offering a "Hello" to anyone who was as insane as him to be up at such an unruly time. He was surprised when he heard a bang and a muttered curse from the other end of the room near the showers.

"Hello? Who is it?" asked a familiar voice before a head popped out from behind one of the curtains, his green eyes narrowing curiously in the torchlight, "Is that you, John?"

"The one and only. Remmy, what the bloody hell are you doing up so early?" said John with a smirk, walking down the aisle and stopping a few stalls away, "Blimey, and what happened to your face?"

Remus shied away from John slightly as he tried to cover up the immense amount of dirt covering his face, and patted down his hair to soothe out all the knotted clumps that were claiming his head as their own. His nails were also caked with dirt and his arms were littered with shallow scratches. He focused on the scratches and narrowed his eyes at the boy before drawing closer,

"Remus, what happened to you?" he demanded, trying to get closer but Remus' curtain blocked him. At this distance, his blue eyes now noticed something that sent a chill up slithering his spine as he examined Remus' arms more closely.

Besides the tiny, superficial fresh cuts littering his arms, there were also what appeared to be much older and much deeper scars around his wrists.

"Um, can you not come any closer?" asked Remus nervously while shifting behind the curtains, "I'm kind of naked over here."

John's eyes widened a bit before he stepped a couple of feet back, "Oh," he muttered, "okay. Look, take your shower. I'm doing the same thing. When you get out, I want to know what happened-understand?"

"Okay." Remus gave a small smile before shutting the curtains completely around him and left John standing there for a minute before he realized that Remus could probably seem him through the curtain like John could see him and hightailed it to another stall, not too far away. He peeled his clothes off begrudgingly as the cool morning air assaulted his skin and left his hair standing on end. The discomfort quickly diminished as he turned on the hot water and allowed the pressure to pound into his muscles, forgetting about any previous cares he could have had as he let the heat soothe him, at least for this moment...

Fifteen minutes later, he walked out of the shower, tying on his Gryffindor tie and looking for Remus. Remus waved him over from the front of the room and smiled as the blonde walked up.

"So you going to tell me what happened?" asked John as he finished tying his tie and straitened it. He watched Remus' face darken significantly as John continued to keep his eyes focused on him.

"I was kind of hoping that you'd forget." mumbled Remus as he swiped his bangs to the side.

"I don't forget when it comes to my friends," assured John, "now what's up? How did you get so dirty and with all those scratches?"

Remus cast his eyes down towards the ground and swallowed. ""It's not a big deal, John."

"That's bullocks and you know it," retorted John, folding his arms across his chest, "now who did this? Tell me Remus and I'll help settle this, okay? Just tell me."

Remus was quiet for a couple of minutes before he mumbled something under his breath.

"I'm sorry Remmy, what was that?"

"I did it."

John stared at him with a confused look, "I don't think I understand. Why-"

I'm. A. Werewolf." Remus spat, flinching at the sound of his own voice. John stood in front of him, frozen. Remus wasn't one to lie, and the scratches as well as the dirt also seemed to back up his confession.

Now the real question came into his mind.

_How am I supposed to react to this?_

He gave himself a mental slap in the face, _No-werewolf or not, Remus is my friend. He needs my help._ He reached out his hand and carefully laid his hand on Remus' forearm, nearly jumping out of his skin as Remus jumped back and yelled.

"Don't touch me!" Remus nearly screamed, "I'm dangerous-don't you understand? I can KILL YOU." Remus cowered away, crossing his arms in front of him in the classic defense position.

"I believe you." John said as he held his arms out in front of him, palms up. He repeated himself, this time more slowly.

"I. Believe. You. Okay?" said John, offering a weak smile, "I believe you Remmy. Now let me help you. Will you let me help you?"

Remus stood stock still, his head bent down and his breathing somewhat shallow.

"You…You want to help me?" said Remus. He looked up and locked his eyes on John. Tears seemed to be threating to escape the green eyed boy, but if the brilliant smile on his face was anything to go by, John knew he shouldn't have to be too worried.

"I'm your friend Remus," chuckled John, "of course I want to help you. You need some bandages for those cuts, now don't you?"

Remus looked down at his sleeved arms and nodded.

"Okay," said John, pulling out his wand, "please, let me bandage your arms. Would you let me?"

"Yes." answered Remus. The boy slowly rolled his shirt sleeves back, wincing a little from the stings.

"Alright then." said John, relief washing over him. He pointed his wand at Remus' now exposed arms, "I don't have any disinfectant right now-do you think the Episkey spell might work?"

"We'll never know if we never try." said Remus with a roll of the shoulder. He placed both arms side by side in front of him and offered them to John.

"That's true," said John. He cleared his throat before bringing the wand to Remus' arms, saying "**_Episkey!_**" The two boys watched as a warm yellow glow engulfed his arms, leaving tiny white marks in where the original scratches once were.

"Wow." exclaimed Remus, his arms falling back to his sides, "That's amazing-they don't hurt anymore!"

"I'm glad to hear that Remmy." John smiled and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, "I'm glad you're okay."

There was a slight pause before John let his hand drop.

"Am I the only one that knows?" John asked softly.

Remus flinched. "Yeah."

"How did you come to be like…this?" John asked. Remus sighed,

"I was bit a long time ago when I was little. At home, we have the proper protocols set into place in order to keep me from hurting anybody. But here at school, there are not really very many places I can go."

"Except for the Shrieking Shack." John filled in. Remus nodded,

"That's why you reacted so strangely when I mentioned the Whomping Willow," John mused, "because it's the barrier that protects your secrete passageway to the Shack. It's all quite brilliant."

Remus offered a shy smile, "Headmaster Dumbledore thought of it."

"Have you thought about telling your friends-you know, James, Sirius and Peter?" John asked as they headed back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Remus stopped in mid-stride and stared with horror-filled eyes.

"I-I can't do that, John!" he whispered in a high-pitched tone, "They won't like me anymore!"

John snorted, "What the bloody hell do you mean they won't like you anymore?" he said, "Why, of _course_ they'll still like you. If they don't-well, there isn't a chance they won't stay as your friends, Remus."

Remus hung his head lowly, "I dunno, John." He said, "I don't know if you're right about that."  
>"Remus," John said, willing Remus to look up at him, "it felt good when you told me about it, didn't it?"<p>

Remus nodded, "It was scary, but yeah, you helped me."

John beamed, "Well, I'm positive that if you tell them they will back you up."

"You think so?" Remus asked to himself. John nodded.

"Definitely," John chuckled. "Will you tell them?"

Remus shrugged with a small smile, "We'll see."

As John and Sherlock made their way towards the train, one memory lingered in John's mind.

_"__I thought about what you said"_, _John announced as he stood in to the side of the entrance towards the Great Hall with Jim, the two of them obscured by the shadows around them. Light trickled in from the Great Hall, and many shouts could be heard from the many students excited to have finished another year of school at Hogwarts, whether it was their first or their last. John shot a glance towards the room, imagining Sherlock's annoyed expression as he tried to find his Gryffindor friend amongst all the controlled chaos._

_Jim nodded slowly as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, "And?" he said, eager to hear what the Gryffindor had to say. John sighed,_

_"__I don't think it's going to happen, Jim." John said, placing a shoulder on the Irish boy and thereby stopping Jim short in his rocking. Jim narrowed his eyes just a tad, "May I ask why?"_

_John shook his head, "I just don't think we'd make a good pair, you and I."_

_"__Not like how you and Sherly are, huh?" Jim said, shooting a glance towards the Great Hall where Sherlock was no doubt trying his best to stay away from his elder brother. John blushed._

_"__What's that supposed to mean?" John asked defensively, but Jim only shook his head, a slow and knowing grin spreading across his face._

_"__I'll let you figure that one on your own, Johnny boy." Jim said, letting John's hand slide off his shoulder, "You two really work well together," he paused and tilted his head in thought, "maybe I should get me a Sherly."_

_John chuckled, "I'd be happy to help."_

_Jim placed a hand over his heart, an amused grin plastered on his face, "Would you, Johnny? For me?"_

_John held out his hand and Jim took it, still grinning. "Definitely," John said, shooting Jim a wink before he walked inside the Great Hall to join Sherlock, leaving Jim alone in the shadows._

Amongst the chaos involving the departure of all the students of Hogwarts to go home, John could hear one voice repeatedly calling his name amongst all the other voices bouncing around in his brain.

"John!"

John turned around to the sound of Remus' voice and smiled as he watched Remus and the rest of the Marauders jostle over one another to reach John and Sherlock. Remus wore a beaming smile that warmed John's heart as the green eyed boy stopped in front of him and motioned to the others.

"I, uh, I told them." Remus said shyly. John grinned at the other boys.

"And how did it go?" John asked, although it was evident what the answer to that question would be. When John had explained it to Sherlock, Sherlock had only pouted, whining about something to do with 'the game' being over so quickly.

"We're going to start training to become Animagi!" James announced as he adjusted his glasses.

He then clapped Remus heartily on the shoulder, "and then we'll be able to accompany Remmy when he has to go on his excursions."

Sherlock nodded approvingly and John beamed.

"That sounds wonderful," John said, patting Remus gently on his other shoulder.

The other boys boarded the train with smiles, but Remus stayed behind. He stepped forward and gave John a quick but strong hug.

"_Thank you._" he whispered before leaning back and smiling at the two of them.

"It's no problem Remmy," John said as he glanced up at Sherlock who wore a thoughtful expression on his face, "I'm just glad it's all turned out for the best."

"Me too. Have a great summer John, Sherlock!" Remus laughed as he boarded the train.

Sherlock, only half-aware of the world around him dived back into his own memories as it pertained to a specific little black book.

_"__Headmaster?" Sherlock asked as he slipped into the wide office. Dumbledore looked up from his desk and raised an eyebrow._

_"__Sherlock," he said, not breaking his writing on a piece of parchment paper, "what brings you here? Shouldn't you be getting ready to go back home?"_

_Sherlock shook his head and walked up to the desk, "That is all taken care of. I came here to ask you a question."_

_The headmaster's eyes hardened and he stopped writing. "What did you want to ask?"_

_"__Who is Tom Marvolo Riddle?" Sherlock asked, concealing a small smile. He had already solved the silly anagram, but now he craved confirmation. Headmaster stood up slowly and stared into Sherlock's eyes._

_"__Something tells me you already know the answer to that question, dear boy." Headmaster said. Sherlock blushed,_

_"__I believe I do, but I wanted to be sure." He answered. Dumbledore sat back down in his chair and sighed._

_"__You're findings are indeed correct, Sherlock." he continued, "You remind me of him," Dumbledore said after a while of contemplation, "he was quite intelligent too. He was confident and insightful just as you are, Sherlock."_

_Sherlock fought the urge to squirm as he listened to himself be compared to the darkest wizard of history. Dumbledore saw this, and leaned forward in his desk, clasping his hands together on the hard wood table and looking into the young boy's eyes._

_"__There is one great difference between the two of you," Headmaster assured, "one great difference."_

_"__What would that be?" Sherlock asked. Headmaster Dumbledore smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners,_

_"__You have John. Tom didn't have friends-he didn't have people that cared about him like you. Cherish those who cherish you, Sherlock."_

Sherlock and John were quick to board the train and although he wouldn't admit it, Sherlock was quite glad to find that compartment 221B was empty for them to use. As John slid into his seat, Sherlock spoke.

"John," he said hesitantly, reflecting on Dumbledore's words of advice, "At first I-I must admit I was unsure of how well this year would turn out for me," he paused with a somewhat pained expression on his face as he reflected what could only have happened if he had never met John. He forced himself out of those thoughts and smiled tentatively, "But I must say that this year was definitely one of the best years of my life."

John blushed before breaking out into a wide grin, "Don't say that just yet Sherlock," he said wantonly, the train lurking forward to take them back home to London, "for I fear that there are many more where that came from."

Sherlock grinned back before looking out the window and recounting the many memories they'd made during their time at the castle-practicing magic, adjusting to castle, discovering secretes- as it slowly started to fade into the distance, "You know," he said, shooting John a sideways glace, "I think you're right."

Fin.

Look for Year Two! J


	6. Yr2 New Arrivals

Wizarding Realm of Holmes and Watson

By: Texmex007

Chapter (2): New Arrivals

Year Two, part 1: Here We Are Again.

**A.N: Enter in two very different (but best friends all the same) OC's named 'Sierra' and 'Taylor'. I own Sierra and ****Devynraye ****owns 'Taylor'.**

**I do not own BBC's Sherlock nor do I own Harry Potter.**

**Go to ****Devynraye's ****page on when you get the chance, she's a really good author! Okay, enough advertisement, eh? So here goes the story~ Oh so heads up, there's a little bit of rivalry shown between the US and the UK in here, but it's real brief lol No hatin' on any countries from Texmex007.**

It had been a long summer.

John sighed as he boarded the train, his thoughts and actions heavy as he reflected back on one person in particular.

_Warm hazel eyes, sun tanned wrinkled face from spending her days gardening. Silvery hair pulled back in an elegant bun. Mouth-watering scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies wafting from the kitchen and hot chamomile tea…_.

"You are thinking of someone you've just recently lost, aren't you?" Sherlock inquired, speaking for the first time since John had entered the compartment.

John had sat down across from him about three hours ago.

"What?" John asked blearily before clearing his throat and repeating the question, "What did you say?"

"You've got this look on your face," Sherlock explained, "Your eyes are watery and distant, as if you are reflecting back on a memory-"

He immediately stopped talking as he watched with wide eyes a small tear roll down John's face before the sandy blonde quickly wiped it away with his shirt sleeve.

"My grandmother died two weeks ago." John explained with an exasperated sigh, looking out the window in order to prevent any more tears from escaping.

"My condolences for you and your family." Sherlock replied somewhat stiffly as he stared at his friend, trying to figure out what he should say next. Sherlock was many things, but comforting was not one of them. Not really. According to John he was still 'working on it'. As he listened to John, he felt relief as he noted that John was not really looking for comfort-leave it to John to not demand a single thing Sherlock couldn't give.

"She was my favorite person in the whole world growing up," John continued, "she had been fighting bone cancer for a year now, and this last hospital visit she-she…"

"She died." Sherlock finished quietly. John nodded.

"You want to know the last words she said?" John asked. Sherlock nodded.

"She looked at me directly and said", John laughed a little, before continuing.

"'John, do me a favor, won't you?' she asked, and I said 'sure Gram, I'll do anything.' She beamed up at me from her hospital bed and said 'John, I want you to be happy. Be who you really want to be and don't let anyone tell you differently.'"

Sherlock nodded slowly.

"I hadn't the slightest of clue about what she was saying, but now I think I do." John mused, his thoughts reflecting on his sister Harry and their kinship in sharing the same sexual orientation, "Anyway, um, after she said that, she died. Right there in front of me-it was shocking-"

"Of course it'd be shocking, a twelve year old isn't suited for watching someone die in front of them." Sherlock said. John just shook his head.

"That's not what was shocking," John explained, "it was the fact that I was able to handle it so well. I didn't cry. I didn't break down. More than anything, I was relieved."

"Relieved that your Grandmother wasn't suffering anymore?" Sherlock offered. John nodded.

They were quiet once more and remained so for the rest of the trip.

When John departed the train with Sherlock, he had intended on boarding the boats like last year. However, much to his surprise he was soon guided by Hagrid towards carriages led by what appeared to be large, black, and bony winged horses. He stood next to the creature in awe as it looked down at him with large white eyes. John slowly put forth his hand and patted the creature on its neck, earning him a gentle nudge.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock exclaimed with pure confusion as he watched John grope at thin air.

"You don't see it?" John asked as he turned his head to Sherlock. The creature he had been petting grew impatient for another head rub and nudged John in his side. John laughed as he squirmed away from the creature.

"It seems to me that you see the Thestrals."

John and Sherlock turned around to see a pale boy their age with shoulder length blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. John smiled.

"Good evening Xenophilius Lovegood." Sherlock said with an acknowledging nod. Xenophilius returned the gesture before reaching John.

"Hey, Xeno," John greeted cheerily as he watched Xenophilius stand next to him and pet the creature.

"What did you call this creature?" John asked as he turned his attention back to the creature, "a Thestral?"

"Yes," Xenophilius answered with a small smile, "Thestrals are creatures that are not normally seen by people unless they have seen death." He paused, looking straight at John, "You've seen Death, haven't you?"

Sherlock glared at him for his straightforwardness-a trait he would normally praise, but in this case he found it extremely rude- but John only offered a weak smile.

They boarded on the carriage along with Xenophilius, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. John listened with a smile as his fellow Gryffindors babbled about their excitement for the upcoming school year, the Animagus classes that Sirius and the other boys were going to take in order to give Remus company while he went on his 'trips', and the pranks they were dying to pull on the unsuspecting First years.

John found himself only half listening to Professor McGonagall as she continued to list the First years. By the time he started paying attention, she was already down to the 'S''s on the list.

"Sierra Sonora!" Professor McGonagall called out with a warm smile.

John watched as an eleven year old Hispanic looking girl with long, curly as well as wavy dark brown hair that reached the small of her back and deep brown eyes boldly walked up to the stool and faced the students. John smiled as he examined her expression: confident, serious, and yet there was also the slightest hint of kindness.

He watched the Hat pull a thoughtful look before talking out loud.

"You would be a brilliant Ravenclaw," the Sorting Hat muttered. John watched the girl lower her eyes towards her necklaces.

"I see," the Hat continued as it read the girls thoughts, "you would also make an excellent Gryffindor." John watched as Sierra looked down at the second necklace.

"That is it then," the Hat announced, "You shall belong in Gryffindor!"

Amongst the applauding students, Sierra, strode down towards John, and with a smile spoke.

"Mind if I sit next to you?" Sierra asked as she walked up to him. John felt himself smile as he heard a distinctly American accent-southern, to be exact. Before he answered, he took the time to glance at her two necklaces- One was on a black nylon string and appeared to be a silver three-prong talon grasping a white marble.

He admired the other necklace as well. It was a gold necklace with one gold ring in the middle. As he looked at the ring more closely he could see the head of a lion carved into the ring, a diamond in between its fangs and two ruby eyes glittering in the candlelight.

_The lion is the mascot for Gryffindor_ John thought.

"Only if you tell me which state in America you're from." John said with a smile, his eyes meeting hers again as he moved over to give her space.

"I'm a Texan." Sierra beamed, her usually heavy-lidded eyes widening for a moment as she sat down next to the dirty blonde.

"Texas is the second largest state in the United States," Sherlock piqued, analyzing the young girl before him, "do you know the first largest state?"

"Alaska." Sierra answered matter-of-factly as she rolled up her dress shirt sleeves, revealing warm tan skin lightly speckled with dark brown freckles. If Sherlock's calculations were correct, there were six brown freckles on her right arm and three on her left that formed the shape of an isosceles triangle. He smiled at her correct answer. She held out her small hand to John, "My name is Sierra-as you've probably heard from the Professor."

"My name is John," John greeted her with a wattage smile, "and the Ravenclaw is Sherlock."

She turned to Sherlock and looked back and forth between the two, a cheery grin on her face.

"Ya'll have such pretty eyes." She said before adding, "And it's nice to meet ya'll." Sierra drawled with a smile, "I love your accents by the way-English accents are the second best in my opinion."

"Thanks!" John exclaimed, a grateful smile on his face. _Sherlock does have pretty eyes, doesn't he?_ he thought as he snuck a peek over at Sherlock. The Ravenclaw, unaccustomed to receiving such bold compliments managed to sputter a 'thank you' as well.

"So, what would be the first best accent, then Sierra?" John asked curiously.

"Irish accents." Sierra answered with a sheepish grin and slight blush tinting her tan cheeks. John immediately thought of Jim.

_I kind of want to introduce her to him_ John thought with a smirk.

"Well," John chuckled, "I like your accent too."

"Gracias." Sierra said with a small smile. John looked at her blankly and Sherlock smirked at John's ignorance.

"De nada," Sherlock smiled, answering for John.

Before any of the three could speak another word, Professor McGonagall announced the next name,

"Taylor Turberville!"

Sherlock watched as Sierra grew oddly quiet and a look of anticipation settled upon her features.

Sherlock then focused his keen gaze at the girl on the stool; Taylor appeared to have an olive complexion and many freckles on her face. She had long, dark, wavy chocolate brown hair that reached a little past her shoulder blades and slightly slit brown eyes, which indicated to Sherlock that she must be of some sort of Asian descent. Taylor wore a huge grin on her face as the hat spoke.

"Gryffindor!" the Hat shouted.

To John, amongst all the other Gryffindors, Sierra seemed to shout the most as Taylor stepped off the stool and headed towards their table.

"Is she a friend of yours?" John inquired, pointing to the girl as she approached.

"That's correct!" Sierra answered with a grin. John couldn't help but chuckle as her smile revealed small dimples on her cheeks, "We came here together from America!"

Just then, Taylor reached Sierra and the two hugged before sitting back down next to John.

"What is your ethnicity?" Sherlock asked, looking at Taylor.

"I'm half Filipino." Taylor answered proudly.

"And you?" John asked to Sierra. Sierra smiled,

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, "Since I'm from Texas-which Spanish speaking country is closest to me?"

Sherlock found himself chuckling at the girl's feisty attitude. John shook his head in defeat.

"She's Mexican, John." Sherlock stated with a smirk-he was starting to admire her. It was nice to find another person at this school who, despite their young age, could be their own standard of brilliant.

"I'm half," Sierra corrected mildly, "the other half of me comes from Scotland, Ireland, Wales…and England-although you'd probably never guess that, looking at me."

John couldn't help but notice the way Sierra said 'Scotland'-she said it with a perfect Scottish accent. Before John could make a comment about it, he was interrupted by Sherlock.

"Why didn't you attend Salem's School for Witches?" Sherlock inquired after the two girls stopped fussing about their placement together.

"We didn't want to go because it was an all-girls school," Taylor answered for the both of them with a slight frown.

"And if it were an all-girl school," Sierra continued with a rather serious expression, "I think I would've gone on a murder spree."

John laughed. "You can't be serious."

Sierra looked at him; her normally "sleepy-eyed" half-shut eyelids comically wide open with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk. Taylor patted John's arm lightly,

"Trust me when I say that Sierra's dead serious." Taylor assured him with a tight smile and slightly narrowed eyes.

Once again, Sierra reminded him of Jim.

_That's it_, John thought as he glanced over at the Slytherin table and spotted said Slytherin quietly watching his surroundings and muttering things to his Hufflepuff friend, Sebastian, _the moment I can, I'm introducing her to Jim._

"I believe her." Sherlock deadpanned after examining the Hispanic. Yes. He was starting to admire her. He made a mental note to make sure she'd have his assistance if she were to need it.

Taylor's voice interrupted his thoughts and his attention turned to her.

"Besides, Salem's only sport is broom racing and I need a sport with some balls in it, if you know what I mean." She added wantonly, receiving a concealed chuckle from Sierra and matching smirks from the boys in their little group.

Someone from behind the four students made a disgusted scoff that had all four of them turning their heads. It was Irene Adler, sitting prettily in her seat, her chestnut hair swept up in an elegant bun and her skirt hiked up just a little above her mid-calf. Her green cat-like eyes narrowed at the two Americans as they examined her in their seats. Taylor frowned but before she could say anything, Irene was speaking.

"What's so great about Americans?" she said haughtily, her eyes flashing to Sherlock for some reason in which he was not quite sure of-maybe to see if he agreed(which he didn't), "Honestly, I've not the slightest clue."

Whatever compliment Sierra was dying to give to Irene about her beautiful green eyes died instantly in her mouth and soured her taste buds, and that was the grand beginning of how Sierra Sonora and Taylor Turberville began to despise one pretty little Irene Adler.

"Excuse you," Sierra retorted, her hands tightening into little balls of fists, "I don't know where you were three years ago, but we Americans put _man _on the _moon._" She shot Irene a scathing look, "America beat another _world power_-you know, Russia? Or were you too busy eating your cute little crumpets and drinking tea to not notice?"

Irene shot her a withering look back but it was ignored. She also turned to John and Sherlock, but they were too busy trying not to laugh at her. Before Irene could counter, Taylor interjected.

"Oh-and by the way," Taylor retorted, her tone arrogant as she narrowed her eyes at the Slytherin, "let's also not forget that it was us _Americans_ who also won our independence from Britain in the 1700's."

With an audible '_slap_' of a high-five from Sierra, the two turned away from Irene to continue watching the ceremony, each of the four exchanging giggles and snickers from Irene's shocked expression.

Sorting Ceremony ended soon afterwards. After promising Sherlock to meet him later and encouraging (as well as failing) to get Taylor to leave with the Gryffindor Prefects, John quickly guided Sierra by the shoulder over to the Slytherin table, calling Jim over. Sierra glanced up at John with a questioning look, obviously wanting an explanation, but John only waited with a concealed smirk until Jim reached them to speak.

"Jim," John said excitedly as he wrapped the Slytherin in a quick hug, "How goes it?"

"Oh, doing alright, I suppose." Jim answered casually before glancing down at the short Hispanic girl standing next to John, "Who's this?" he added with the narrowing of his eyes and an interested smile gracing his lips.

Sierra's face burned red as he listened to the taller boy speak, her mind shouting as she fought back a smile. Of course John would introduce her to some random guy who spoke in her most favorite accent. She had only met John a half an hour ago and he was already on her top ten favorite's list.

"This is-" John started to introduce her but he was cut off by her southern drawl.

"My name is Sierra, Sierra Sonora," she said, shooting out her hand. Jim took it with a tilt of the head,

"Well, hello Sierra, my name is Jim Moriarty," Jim replied, picking up on her accent, "where in America are you from?"

"I'm from the Lone Star state of Texas," Sierra explained proudly before adding slyly with the point of her finger, "You are from Ireland, aren't you?"

Jim grinned down at the Hispanic girl, "Yes I am," he said, "So out of pure curiosity, do you know how to shoot a gun?"

"Heck yeah I do," Sierra scoffed with a dark grin as she let go of his hand, "as a Texan, I know my way around a gun-but as a witch, I can say the same thing about my wand." She then proceeded to pull her wand out from her robe's sleeve. The wand was made of ebony, approximately nine inches with a phoenix feather core. She placed it back into her robe's sleeve as quickly as she'd pulled it out.

"Ooooh," Jim cooed as he placed a light hand on her shoulder, "that's lovely to hear-after you get situated in your dorms and classes, we'll have to meet up and see how good of a shot you are compared to me, got it?"

"Sounds like a deal." Sierra said, smirking up at Jim before giving John a quick thank-you hug and leaving to catch up to the other First years. The two Second years watched as she left and rejoined Taylor, disappearing behind a door. Sebastian, who had been standing next to Taylor, waltzed towards them, passing Sierra on the way.

"I see what you've done here." Jim mused in a sing-song manner, prodding John in the shoulder with his elbow, "You naughty boy, Johnny-playing match maker and all."

"I told you I'd help, didn't I? Besides, she seems to admire you-I'll give you that," John replied. He rolled his eyes at his friend's arrogance, "but she's a real jalapeño, that one is," he warned with a knowing smile, "she'll give you a run for your money."

By this time, Sebastian showed up beside Jim, shooting John a small nod, to which John quickly returned. Jim continued, ignoring the Hufflepuff's presence for the time being.

"I've never been one to try spicy, but there's a first time for everything." Jim said thoughtfully before winking at John.

"Just try not to get burned!" retorted John jokingly before making his way to go find Sherlock.

_Oh, don't worry about me,_ thought Jim with a smirk, his eyes cutting to Sebastian's as the Hufflepuff stood quietly, a pensive look on his face, _I'm usually the one who does the 'burning'._

Taylor followed the other First years, turning around once to check on Sierra. She chuckled as she watched her short friend chat up a dark haired boy-probably a Second year, based on his height and his friendliness towards John. It wasn't unusual for the short Hispanic to be outwardly friendly towards other people, but what was unlike her was the fact that she was standing so close to the stranger.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted as she rammed into a tall, solid object.

_SHIT!_

She looked up to a narrowed pair of blue eyes, wavy dark brown hair and lots of freckles. The yellow and black tie he loosely sported around his neck told her he was a Hufflepuff, and the scowl he wore told her he was very _annoyed_ Hufflepuff indeed.

"Why don't you fucking watch where you're going next time, you idiot." the boy snarled. She dodged just in time to avoid being shoved back. She narrowed her eyes and scoffed,

"It's not my fault you were standing still in a river of moving bodies like grade A dipshit." she retorted, pointing her finger into his chest, "So that's on you."

Sebastian's eyes widened just a fraction.

_Does she even know who she's talking to?_ Sebastian thought. He scratched his thigh aimlessly at that thought as he studied the dark haired girl, her arms folded across her chest.

"Where you waiting on someone?" she asked, her curiosity now peaked somewhat. Her question somewhat startled him from his thoughts and he mentally cursed himself.

_Shit, Basher. That's not supposed to happen._

"What's it to you?" he retorted, those dark blue eyes of his trained on Jim and a short dark haired girl. Taylor followed his gaze and smirked, everything now clicking together.

"You're waiting on that Slytherin guy, aren't you?" she inquired, now watching Sierra and the white guy standing next to John.

"I am." Sebastian said, "I'm assuming you know that girl over there?"

Taylor furrowed her eyebrows, "How'd you-"

"I watched you get sorted," Sebastian explained with a huff, "and I saw how you and that girl interacted-based on what I observed, I was able to conclude that you two were friends."

Taylor grinned, "That was really good." she said, impressed despite herself.

Sebastian stiffened slightly from her appraisal, once again taken by surprise, this time by the foreign tingling sensation inside his chest coming from somewhere in the close proximity of his heart. He clenched his jaw momentarily, willing away the feeling before she continued.

He was used to appraisal about his marksmanship, but not about his cleverness and if there was one thing he wasn't used to, it was showing his mental capabilities to others. Put short, it was a part of his front and no one was supposed to know about this side to him.

_How the hell did I just allow myself to slip up like that?_

She pointed at her friend from across the room, "By the way, that girl's got a name-it's Sierra. And mine is-"

"I already know who you are," Sebastian interjected roughly, his eyes locking on hers, "your name is Taylor."

"Okay then tall, dark and mysterious," Taylor smirked as she leaned against the doorframe, "Are you going to tell me your name or am I going to have to guess?"

Sebastian smirked, "The name is Sebastian Moran. However, if you want to live past your first year of Hogwarts, then you'll call me 'Basher'. Got that runt?"

"Oh-kay." Taylor drawled, "But just so you know, I'm pretty sure I'll be catching up to you in size in like, a few years." She grinned as he left her with a smirk on his face and joined the Slytherin in another part of the room. Sierra bounded up to her, a giddy smile on her face that quickly faded by the time she caught up to Taylor. Sierra watched Sebastian leave and join Jim with a curious glint in her eye and turned to her taller friend. Across the room, Jim was eyeing Taylor.

"And that was?" he asked after John left, an eyebrow raised as Sebastian walked beside him. Sebastian grunted.

"Taylor," he answered coolly, "Sierra's friend."

"How nice." Jim said, his voice derived of kindness but fully injected with humor as he watched Sebastian's fist clench just a fraction.

_How interesting it is to watch you react so strongly_ Jim thought as they headed towards the Slytherin Common Room, _I'll have to play with this later._

"Who was that?" Sierra inquired as they jogged to catch up with the other First years. Taylor scoffed,

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." Taylor retorted. Sierra only laughed, but before she could explain the Gryffindor Prefect spoke, his gruff voice explaining the use of passwords, dorm locations and other information that the girls really could care less about for the moment-because honestly, wasn't that what they had John for?

Later on that night, Taylor flopped back onto her bed and closed her eyes, the day's exhaustion finally catching up to her.

"That 'Basher' guy sounded pretty rugged." Sierra commented off-handedly, reflecting back on their previous conversations as she fiddled with the hem of her Kimba: The White Lion anime t-shirt. Taylor snorted,

"Yeah he is." Taylor said as she tugged her Black Sabbath t-shirt down past her navel, "I don't know what the hell his problem is, but I'll be damned if I'll let him talk to me like I'm an idiot like he did the next time we meet."

Sierra couldn't help but giggle, "Well, whatever his problem is, let's just hope he doesn't get on your bad side."

"Pssh," Taylor rolled her eyes, "please. I'm not going to let him get to me."

"Sounds like a good plan."

"What about that Slytherin guy? Jim?" Taylor asked as she placed her arm over her eyes.

Sierra furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, "What about him? John introduced me to him right after the ceremony."

"I saw that." Taylor said, adding slyly, "I also saw you smiling. He must be something to get you smiling like the little school girl you are."

Sierra frowned before turning the light out and hiding beneath the covers,

"Good night, Taylor." She said roughly. Taylor grinned and fought back a chuckle before she too slipped underneath her covers.

"Goodnight, Sierra."

Before Taylor could fall asleep, Sierra's voice invaded her mind and she forced herself to open her eyes to squint over at Sierra in the dark.

"Sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you." she said. Sierra smiled.

"I said it'll be hard, living here in England won't it? I mean, it's not home-it's not America." Sierra sighed. Taylor chuckled,

"Yeah, but that's what I got you for, Sierra-you're like, my little slice of America or something like that." Taylor yawned as she reflected on the shorter girl's patriotism.

"You are too, Taylor," Sierra chuckled before turning over to sleep, "you are too."

**A.N: Aww lookie, I added Americans! How about that? Well, things will only get more interesting from here, I must say. Hope you enjoyed it! Please comment and let me know what kind of Potterlock things you can think of so I can incorporate them ****J****Jim: "Because that's what fellow writers DO!" (Me: Thanks Jimbo, much appreciated)**


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